Something Supernatural
by Agent-Merriweather
Summary: Mystic Falls is about to come face to face with its ugly past. In a nod to Heroes: "Save the witch, save the world."
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone, _

_Let's get a few things straight here. I do not own any of the characters or storylines mentioned in TVD, the book series or TV series. This fic is purely for fun. I have taken a few liberties with character backgrounds and no, Matt and Caroline have not hooked up here. The story takes place following "History Repeating." Also note, I started writing this fic a while ago. The lovely ladies and gents over at Fan Forum know me as "Ash," so feel free to call me that. They've been getting PMs of this story over the past month or so - about 10 chapters so far, actually. Anyway, I finally got the courage to upload my story here after lots of nervousness about it. _

_I really hope you enjoy it. Comments are always welcome - good or bad. Also, The first few chapter titles were named after Coldplay songs. They sort of set the mood as I began to write. Read on and rock on. Can't wait 'til Bonnie and Damon finally get together on the show and in the books! _

_-Ash_

**Something Supernatural**

Chapter 1: Things That I Don't Understand

Sweet, sociable and beautiful. That was Bonnie Bennett in a nutshell. She fit in with the right crowd and had a life that, for the most part, seemed to mirror the whole "typical teen" ideal so many strive for.

Wavy, voluminous dark hair framed the 17-year-old's stunning features. From the deep green of her alluring eyes to the full pout that was surely bound to make some man weak in the knees sooner or later.

On the surface, she was a "good girl." She loved her father, her grandmother and her friends - especially her best friend, Elena Gilbert.

Life was normal. Or at least it had been before_ they_ came to town.

After "History Repeating"

It had been two weeks since that night in the woods near old Fells Church. Even though the two puncture wounds had disappeared, she could still remember how his teeth felt as they pierced the delicate flesh of her neck.

His eyes transformed from the crystal blues she had recalled looking into before. They were dark, shadowy with red veins protruding from the soft skin beneath. The classically handsome features of his face were contorted into a sight that could only be described as 'nightmarish.'

Bonnie showered as quickly she could to avoid being late for school, yet again. The warm spray of water was soothing against her cinnamon skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, allowing herself to become lost in momentary fantasy.

There she was, dressed immaculately in a Victorian costume, tight corset cutting off her circulation, hair in an intricate up-do and Brad Pitt as Louis from "Interview With A Vampire" with his arm encircling her waist.

They stood at the top of a fabulous, freshly polished oak staircase. He gently tipped her back and gazed deeply into her eyes. His lips crashed onto hers, sending a wave of erotic thoughts flowing through her brain.

"Bonnie!" Just what she needed - her father's shouting interrupting yet another sensual fantasy sequence that just happened to include one William Bradley Pitt.

"Why?" she sighed, balling up her fists and pressing them against the blue and white tiles on the wall.

After styling her locks into a mass of loose romantic curls, she selected a white cotton strapless summer dress that hit her right at the knees and accessorized it with a sand brown leather belt. She then reached for a sand blasted cropped denim jacket and a pair of bronze flat strappy shoes.

"Perfect," she declared triumphantly, staring at herself in the mirror before reaching for her bag.

'Heavy' didn't cut it. Bonnie and her fellow classmates no longer hauled backpacks around. No, these were bonafide pieces of luggage that often weighed about the same as the individuals carrying them.

Bonnie hopped happily into her Prius. Destination: Robert E. Lee High School.

By the time she arrived, her favorite parking spot had already been scooped up. That's okay, she thought. It's still early in the day, so plenty of room for positive things to happen.

That's exactly what she needed. Something to keep her mind from drifting off to that dark place where he still lingered.

After finding herself a spot, Bonnie grabbed her brown bag and slung it over her shoulders. She could already see Elena and Caroline waving to her from afar, Stefan in toe as well.

"Bonnie, over here!" Elena yelled. As if she couldn't already see them.

Offering up her brightest smile, she wrapped her arms around her closest friends and they all made their way to class number one - U.S. History. On the agenda: Civil War reenactments and yet more "up-to-date" educational videos likely made in 1962.

She sat directly in between Caroline and Elena. Stefan was behind them and watched with great amusement as his peers attempted to reproduce moments he could recall firsthand.

The students had drawn straws to pick their individual dates to present. Luckily he and the girls weren't scheduled for their dramatic debut until next week.

He was quite certain Mr. Saltzman would be impressed by the authentic Civil War-era costumes he would be bringing in.

"So hey," Elena whispered to her. "I know we didn't get to talk much over the weekend, but how were things with your Grams? You told her about what happened, right?"

"Yup," Bonnie replied in her softest tone. "She said I should do my best to stay away from Damon. Yeah, like that's gonna be a problem for me."

The two girls giggled softly. "I know, right?"

"Oh Elena, sometimes it's so hard to get his face out of my head. I can still see him coming at me, you know?" Bonnie exclaimed, feeling a chill run down her spine. "I dreamt about him over the weekend - a lot."

"What kind of dreams?" Elena inquired with a raised brow.

"The kinds that make you think you're going crazy," she slowly answered. "They were so...vivid. I kept running into him everywhere - even in my bedroom."

"Your bedroom?" Her best friend now looked officially weirded out. "What the hell was he doing there?"

"Well he definitely wasn't there for a tea party," Bonnie said. "More like he was there for supper. Can you guess which part I played?"

"Oh yes, the main course." Elena watched her friend sympathetically and patted her gently on the back. "I'm so sorry, Bon. I really am."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. If it weren't for me, none of this would be happening to you. You wouldn't have to know that..." Her voice broke off then, as she leaned closer and softened her tone further. "...vampires even exist, let alone the fact that they're less than six degrees of Kevin Bacon away from you."

"Elena, I'm a witch. If anything, getting up close and personal with vampires was just an inevitability for me. I mean, Damon was practically my family's guardian for 150 years. How weird is that?"

Both girls grimaced at the thought. Damon a guardian? A caretaker of sorts? It was practically the equivalent of saying 'jumbo shrimp.' It just didn't make sense.

"That is pretty damn strange," Elena admitted. "Look, if he comes near you again, you know you can always come to me and Stefan."

"I know," Bonnie acknowledged. "I just don't want to have to be...dependent, you know? I mean, if I come from such a powerful witching family, maybe it's best that I...I dunno, learn a few tricks. At least something to keep 'his royal jackass' from ripping my throat out."

"Does this mean it's magic boot camp for my bestie?" Elena giggled.

"Not quite," Bonnie chuckled. "More like me and Grams having tea, reading old books, learning new spells. Don't worry, I won't be donning a camouflage cape with a big pointy hat and combat boots."

"Glad to hear it," the brunette replied. "'Cause that's not a good look...for anyone...not even Stefan."

***

Lunch time was usually an uneventful melding of several things:

1) Cliques sitting in their respective sections of the cafeteria or out in the quad  
2) Trying to solve the great 'what makes the coleslaw so creamy?' mystery  
3) Spotting the next hot, young thing Caroline Forbes would no doubt be trying to sink her freshly Crest white stripped teeth into.

Bonnie decided to spend it in a particularly "un-hip" way today.

"Grams, really. Two sandwiches are enough."

"You sure?" Tituba Bennett asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "I made plenty."

"Yes," Bonnie agreed. "I can see that."

Apart from having a reputation where her students either saw her as a practicing Wiccan or a part-time connoisseur of various types of alcohol, the elder Bennett was also known for being incredibly loyal and protective of those she loved.

She also happened to be a raging fan of the culinary arts. Today she decided to offer up an ode to great French bistro fare in the form of several delectable piles of croque monsieur. It was pretty much the rock 'n' roll, "blinged out" equivalent of a ham and cheese sandwich.

"Really, it's delicious, Grams." Bonnie dabbed at the corners of her mouth, as her grandmother came to sit beside her on the sofa.

"So you gonna tell me about those dreams you've been havin' already?"

Bonnie was completely taken aback. She had yet to even mention her dreams about Damon to her grandmother.

She had planned on doing it at some point, but the words just never seemed to come together. That and she was too busy enjoying the sandwiches...and avoiding any talk of the fanged one.

"Dreams?" she feigned innocence. "What dreams?"

"Come on, girl. You don't expect someone who's been around as long as I have to buy that mumbo jumbo, do you?"

The expression on Grams's face was priceless. It lingered somewhere between seasoned prime-time TV detective and Uncle Phil on _Fresh Prince_ whenever Will was in trouble. She certainly had a flare for drama.

"Grams, it's nothing. Really," she replied weakly.

"I see. So _nothin_' is what's been keeping you up late at night holding on to your neck like someone's out to eat you alive," she surmised sarcastically. "Bonnie, I know he's been inside your head. I see things. You're talking to a seasoned practitioner of the craft, sweetie."

"They're just dreams, Grams," she finally conceded. "I just wish I wasn't having them so often."

"How often?"

Bonnie reached for her mug of piping hot coffee and took a small sip before replying. "Every night."

She gulped hard as Grams' eyes seemed to bulge even further out of their sockets.

"And what exactly has he been doing in your dreams?" she inquired, leaning in closely.

"Oh, the usual. You know, quick bite here, quite bite there. Drain, drain, drain. Dead." Judging by the stern expression on Grams' face, she wasn't all that amused by her attempt at comedy.

"Clever," she responded. "Now why don't you tell me what else he's been doing in your dreams?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can always tell when people are withholding the truth - even if it's just little shards of it. I'm especially good at sniffing it out when it comes to the people I love."

Bonnie watched her in awe. No one else would have ever questioned her. She was a pretty decent actress; their drama teacher told her so.

Nonetheless, she should have known. Grams had a sixth sense about these things. Hell, she probably had a seventh or an eighth for that matter. The woman was a mystical masterpiece and fiest on two legs.

"It's not really the sort of thing I feel comfortable saying out loud...in front of you."

"Bonnie, who's the one who had to tell you about the birds and the bees because your daddy couldn't muster the courage and your sex ed teacher kept confusing you?"

"You did," she recalled, unable to contain her laughter.

Grayson Bennett and his mother belonged on opposite ends of the teaching spectrum. It was a case of conservative versus liberal, a strange development considering the household he grew up in. Then again, perhaps his mother's "witchy juju" could be blamed for frightening him off to the other side.

"So speak. I won't judge you." That was what she loved most about Grams. She could always speak the truth without fear of persecution - well, for the most part.

Bonnie had another sip of coffee. "Before the eventual death by drainage part, we get a little...intimate."

"I see..." Tituba Bennett's voice trailed off then.

"So what do I do?" she asked. Her eyes were wide with desperation.

She needed to know how to get rid of the images that were plaguing her mind and frightening her right out of her wits and slumber all at once.

"You do nothing," Tituba answered, grasping one of Bonnie's hands in her own. "At least for now. What you experienced was traumatic, sweetie."

"Do nothing?" She couldn't contain her disbelief and disappointment. "So what, I'm just supposed to dream about him doing all of those terrible things all over again, night after night? It's just wrong. There has to be a way. Grams, we come from a powerful witching family. Can't we just work a spell? Bottle a potion? Something?"

"Honey, you have to be very careful with the craft. You're still new to all of this. You can't just bottle a potion or work a spell to solve things that sometimes just require the passage of time."

"It's been two weeks," she interrupted.

"Two weeks?" Grams repeated. Bonnie nodded quickly, hoping she would take at least some pity on her and grab one of her spell books. "That's hardly a scratch on seventeen years of life."

Instantly, the younger witch's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So you won't help me?"

"Of course I'll help you - but not by conjuring up an easy fix. You just need to give yourself time to heal, sweetie."

By the time lunch had ended, Bonnie was back in class without a definitive solution to her problem and a raging headache. She clutched her head in her hands as she sat near the window in English Lit.

"Bonnie? You okay?" Caroline asked sweetly.

"Not really," she admitted, looking up only slightly. "My head's throbbing."

"Here," the bubbly blond replied, passing her a bottle of Tylenol.

She accepted it gratefully and smiled. Raising her hand, Bonnie asked the teacher for permission to be excused.

Once in the washroom, she popped the pills and washed it down with a bottle of water she'd purchased on the way. She lingered for a moment by the mirror, observing herself very carefully.

Her skin was a touch too pale this afternoon. Bonnie was about to walk away when she was caught off guard by the sensation of dizziness. Pressing a hand firmly against the wall, she tried to steady herself.

"Okay room, stop spinning," she commanded.

Struggling to maintain her balance, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. She felt as though someone had placed her inside a swirling vortex. First came the nausea, then came the light headedness.

The last thing she recalled before her descent into unconsciousness was the sudden sound of cawing off in the distance. She was out.

"Bonnie!"

Her eyelids refused to open immediately. They were still so heavy. "El-Elena," she weakly replied. "How-how long have I-"

"I dunno. I just came in here and found you like this. Here, let me help you."

Placing her arm around her best friend, the tall brunette began the difficult task of plucking her off the floor. She had one arm wound around Bonnie's waist, while the other kept the witch's arm around her neck.

As soon as they emerged from the ladies room, a deeply concerned Matt Donovan dropped his backpack into his locker and ran over to them. "Bonnie! Are you okay?"

"I found her passed out in the girls bathroom," Elena told him. "Think you can grab the juice from my bag? Might be a good idea to get some sugar into her right about now."

"I'll do one better," he began, grabbing hold of Bonnie.

Thankful for the use of her hands back, Elena offered him her warmest smile. She saw the faintest blush appear on his cheeks. There it was - the instant reminder that no matter what, there would always be a soft spot reserved for her in his adolescent heart.

"Thanks," she replied sweetly.

Reaching into her bag, she grabbed a small plastic bottle filled with fruit punch, slipped a straw into it and instructed Bonnie to drink.

When she was done downing a quarter of the bottled red liquid, she offered up a tiny smile of gratitude. Nudging Matt gently to free her, he loosened his grip and allowed her to stand straight.

Staring at the large black rimmed clock on the wall, it dawned on her. She had been passed out for half an hour. English was already done and her belongings were likely still sitting near the window in class.

"There you are!" Caroline Forbes marched right up to he trio clutching Bonnie's bag. "Where have you been?"

"Passed out in the girls bathroom. Thanks for bringing my bag," she answered casually.

"What?" Caroline was the queen of over exaggeration - not that her shock wasn't justified in this instance - but her response was, needless to say, loud.

"Keep it down," Elena scolded her, motioning her hands so that Caroline would tone it down.

"Sorry," she replied.

"I just got really dizzy and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor...the dirty, disgusting, girls bathroom floor," she grimaced at the realization. "Excuse me, I have to go wash my face."

Bonnie disappeared again into the bathroom and made quick work of cleaning up a bit. By the time she came back, Matt had already left.

"He had football practice," Elena explained.

"So that's gotta be all kinds of awkward for you," Caroline chucked in.

"What?" the leggy brunette questioned.

"Oh I dunno, being around your ex all the time. You know, the guy you dated for like, ever."

"It used to be," she acknowledged. "But we've all moved on since then. I'm with Stefan now and Matt's doing fine."

"Sure," exclaimed Caroline sarcastically. "And the next thing you know, you'll be telling me that you and Stefan are virgins."

Turning to Bonnie suddenly, Caroline's eyebrows shot up. "No way!"

"Excuse me?" Bonnie replied.

"You passed out in the girls bathroom, you were dizzy and earlier on this morning, you did complain about being super hungry-"

"That's because it was five minutes before lunch time, Caroline." Bonnie rolled her eyes, knowing full well where the pretty blond was going with this.

"Oh my God, Bonnie!" Softening her voice, just a touch, she put her arms around both girls and leaned in close. "Are you...pregnant?"

Yanking Caroline's arm off of her Bonnie frowned. "Now how do you suppose that happened? Immaculate conception?"

"So you're still carrying your v-card?" she asked.

With one hand over her heart, Bonnie spoke. "Yes Caroline, I am still a card carrying member of the club for people who have yet to 'get any.'"

"Phew," she replied, pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead. "And here I was scared you did it with some random guy and forgot to tell me, your best friend, all about it."

***

Bonnie sat quietly in her Prius taking in the sounds of the latest Alicia Keys record. She was grateful the day had finally come to an end.

Between the dreams she had been having about Damon and today's little fainting incident, she was more than ready to get home, lounge on the sofa, watch soaps and then tuck into a hearty supper.

Pressing her index finger against the 'Engine Start' button, she felt the automobile come to life and began to observe her surroundings before backing out. Bonnie decided to take the scenic route today.

She drove past miles of lush green, the gentle swell of hills and clusters of trees, their branches stretching toward the clear blue sky. This was a definite step up from the congestion of traffic.

Not to mention, it was far better than inhaling the puffs of grey smoke emitted by gas guzzling hellraisers on four wheels.

Bonnie went past Lockwood Drive and stopped at Crescent Road to allow a lone pedestrian to cross. Traveling down that path would have led her straight to the Salvatore boarding house and a chance encounter with the one person she was determined to avoid.

Sighing to herself, she looked ahead again. "Not today, Damon. Not today."

[i]Keep your eyes on the road, Bennett. There's nothing down that road for you.[/i] She took a deep breath, turned up the radio and continued the journey home.

Bonnie kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead. She was concentrating so hard that she missed the light blue Prius parked off to the side of the road.

Grams had made sure to conceal herself behind a thick brush of trees, just along a dirt path. "That's it, sweetie. You go on home. It's about time I had myself a chat with Damon Salvatore."

Tituba Bennett started her modestly sized vehicle and proceeded onwards to 61 Crescent Road. Pulling into the driveway, she could feel his eyes already on her. He knew why she had come; he just didn't care.

_Oh, I'll make you care._ She silently sent him her message and waited for an answer.

It came swiftly. _Your witchcraft isn't welcome here, Tituba. You know the Bennetts are no longer my concern._

_I beg to differ._

_Go home._ His words came out as a harsh order. He wanted nothing to do with these women. They obviously weren't honourable enough to keep their promises.

Tituba defiantly got out of her car and slammed the door extra hard so he could hear her approach from wherever he was. She wasn't afraid of vampires. They were at the bottom of her list of 'things to run from,' right next to werewolves and fairies.

The door slid open before she even hit the front porch. "You have a death wish," the cold voice declared.

She peered in. There was no one physically in sight, but she knew better. He was playing a game with her; she liked games.

"So do you, it would seem." Her retort was short and sweet, as she made her way into the living room. Nobody home.

"Awww, still upset about me taking a bite out of your precious granddaughter?" His voice was still distant, an indication that she needed to head higher to find him.

Moving up the staircase, she noticed the various Salvatore family portraits lining the wall. There were the infamous brothers, arms around one another as though nothing and no one could come between them.

"Not a very smart move, Damon."

The next portrait was of a handsome gentleman in his late forties. Giuseppe Salvatore would no doubt have been either an actor or a model if he were alive today. Those handsome, chiseled features were enough to elicit even the tiniest nod of approval from her.

"And now you've come looking for an apology?" he asked. "Not. Happening."

"Is this game of hide and seek really necessary?" she asked, looking from side to side as she arrived on the second floor. "You're what, almost 170 years old? Shouldn't you be beyond this by now?"

"What's the matter, Tituba? Arthritis kickin' in? Can't manage another flight of steps?"

Staring ahead, she caught sight of the staircase to the attic. "Always the smart ass."

By the time she had climbed the last step, she was met with an ice cold glare and buckets of sarcasm. "Why Tituba, how nice of you to drop in for tea again."

Damon stood at the foot of Stefan's bed clutching a copy of 'Wuthering Heights.' "How fitting," she exclaimed. "A tragic love story with a lead called 'Catherine.'"

He wore a black t-shirt with dark wash fitted jeans and accessorized it with a frown upon hearing her last remark. "You know Tituba, sometimes 'no' means no."

"Excuse me?" she responded, placing a hand defensively on her hip.

"I did say I didn't want any visitors, yet you insisted on barging onto my property. I could have you arrested for trespassing."

"And I could impale you with a tree branch," she fired back.

For a split second, Tituba swore she saw his lips curve into a handsome, reflective smile.

"I see your little grandwitch remembered a few other details from our night in the woods together," he exclaimed in amusement.

"You nearly killed her," she began. "You should be very grateful your brother saved her?"

"And why is that, pray tell?" he queried, coming to stand within an inch of her.

"Because if my granddaughter really had died, I'd have a pretty good reason to set your ass on fire right now," she replied, staring him pointblank in his crystal blues.

"Tsk, tsk. Not very ladylike conduct on your part, Tituba."

"I think you'll find that I'm a bit of a hell raiser when it comes to protecting the people I love."

"Oh no!" he shrieked in mock fear. "I'm shaking in my Pradas."

Rolling her eyes, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thin brown journal. "This is for you."

Throwing his hands up and smiling smugly, he gloated: "For me? A present?"

"Are you familiar with the 'Bellwain Prophecy', Damon?"

He was baffled, to say the least. This witch comes barging in on him when he's trying to spend his alone time sorting through Stefan's most prized possessions to talk about some stupid prophecy? Why the hell should he care?

Unless someone had prophesied that he was going to have dinner at the sizzler again with another buffet of inebriated teenagers on the menu, it wasn't worth hearing. Of course, if they wanted to upgrade his supper to a round of gorgeous women with succulent, protruding blue veins, he was all ears.

Tituba's arm remained extended for what seemed like an eternity. "It hasn't been hexed, if that's what you're thinking. Go on. It's safe to handle."

Damon reached for the flimsy book and observed the obvious wear and tear it had undergone. It was most certainly the literature equivalent of an antique. Flipping it open nonchalantly, he noted a name written in messy cursive at the top right corner of the first page: Tabi B

He knew this woman. _Tabi B...as in Tabitha Bellwain? The woman who was burned right next to Emily the night the townspeople went berserk?_

She nodded her reply and watched as his curiosity blossomed.

"What does that crackpot have to do with me?"

"I suggest you spend some alone time with that book and find out," she answered, turning to leave. "Unless of course rifling through your brother's belongings and moping over your undead girlfriend is just keeping you way too busy."

"Wait," he called out to her.

"I can't," she shouted back, already half way down the staircase. "I'm a trespasser and I've gotta leave before you have me arrested."

Damon smirked at her parting words and tossed the book onto his brother's bed. Sauntering over to the window, he allowed the thick stream of light to wash over him.

'Tabitha Bellwain' was a name he hadn't heard in years - roughly 146 of them.

**'Til next time, Bamon fans. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the fantastic comments. They definitely do a writer a world of good, so keep them coming! Also, just a reminder that I have taken liberties with character backgrounds. For instance, Bonnie's father is called 'Grayson,' not Elena's like in the show. Also, I started writing this story when Grams was still credited as 'Tituba Bennett' on . She is now Sheila, but I decided that I liked the name enough to keep it. ;) _

_Anyway, as usual, no copyright infringement intended. I do not own any of the characters or storylines, which take place in TVD, book version or otherwise. "Your Love Means Everything" is the Coldplay song I just happened to be listening to while writing this. I love it to pieces :) and I hope you do too. _

_Massive thanks to the Fan Forum ladies and gents who gave me the confidence boost I needed to post this here. Haha **Verna**, no it wasn't hijacked! **Izzy**, massive cyber hug. **ILoveRomances**, your words were incredibly kind and humbling. Thank you. **Allyromance99**, I'm so glad you enjoyed chapter one. **DiorNicole**, so glad to write when you guys are happy. **Fanficfan84**, you rock. Thank you so much staying up so late to read this! Haha! _

_Anyway, since I've already got the first ten chapters of this story written, I figured I'd give you all an early update. Enjoy! Gradually you'll start to see why this story was given an "M" rating. ;)_**  
**

**Chapter 2: The Bellwain Prophecy/Your Love Means Everything  
**

The Bellwain Prophecy

**_  
Who Is Tabitha Bellwain? (1864)_**

_"Are you crazy, Tabi?" Emily shrieked. "They'll kill us both. Then they'll go after our families. We have no time for this. We should run!"_

_"We can't run, Emily!" Tabitha pleaded. She wiped her hands on her petticoat and gathered her strength. "This can't happen again."_

_The two women paced back and forth in the tiny, dust filled room. This was their secret hiding place, a basement closet within the confines of Abbott Manor. It was the quietest place they could think to meet._

_The home belonged to Mayor Ashwood Abbot. He held the reigns in Mystic Falls for years before losing his beloved title to Leonard Lockwood._

_Abbott was rarely ever home; instead he chose to attend social function after social function. His wife was a bonafide socialite in those days and stayed attached to him at the hip._

_Their spawn was a 10-year-old troublemaker being molded and shaped into the perfect clone of his father. He represented every "ism" in the book - sexism, classism and racism, to mention a few._

_Tabitha Bellwain had the supreme displeasure of being their servant. But when they weren't busy masquerading as the hired help, she and Emily Bennett were sister witches. Deeply immersed in their craft, they practiced only with each another._

_Despite the lies being spread about those of their kind, there wasn't a witch in Mystic Falls practicing black magic at the time. Mayor Abbott and his legions insisted the opposite was true._

_Bloody massacres. They were to blame. The vampires had emerged and they were powerful, ravenous and willing to do anything to quell that hunger._

_By supernatural association, the witches had become targets as well. Abbott and his clan threw in the werewolves and fairies for good measure. These were "the enemies" to the obedient people of Mystic Falls._

_His plan transformed into what he called 'the cleanse,' designed to purge the town of its "greatest sinners." On that night, the townspeople took to the streets armed with torches, stakes, axes and guns._

_Tabitha had a plan. She would round up the Supernaturals. The weres, the witches, the vampires and the small fairy clan would unite to defeat a common enemy._

_But that plan was deeply flawed. None of the groups would consent to fighting side by side. Instead, they bickered with one another over their supposed "standards" and why fighting alongside "dirty weres" or "wicked witches" was wrong and impure._

_This ignorance sealed their fate - but not before a powerful spell was cast._

_"They refuse to stand together now," Tabitha began, clutching a small knife. "So soon we will parish. But what of our descendants? Peace may not happen in our time, Emily, but some day it will. We must make sure of that."_

_Plunging the knife into the palm of her hand, the blonde witch yelped in pain. She passed the knife to her friend and squeezed her blood into the brown clay pot. The candles flickered around them as they sat inside the pentagram._

_Emily followed suit, crying out when the blade pierced through her skin and dug into the flesh. Tabitha reached for the red amulet she wore around her neck. It usually dangled so deeply that no one would even realize it was there beneath the fabric of her restrictive attire._

_They began a series of chants in the language of the Ancients. The witches were casting a prophecy spell._

_There would come a day when two Supernaturals would fall deeply, passionately in love. This would be followed by the birth of a child, the perfect hybrid._

_He or she would see to it that all magical beings unite, should the threat of another 'cleanse' arise. They would be the ultimate peacemaker - the Supernaturals' hope for survival._

_That night, Emily and Tabitha made their final journal entries and hid them away, along with their amulets. One amber and one red._

_Then side by side, hand in hand, they burned._

Your Love Means Everything

"Bonnie," the masculine voice hissed. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

She kept her eyes shut, hoping he would get bored and go away. His voice, his scent, his touch. They were all too familiar to her.

The young witch felt his movements along the empty spot beside her on the queen sized mattress. He was crawling towards her, hands and knees leaving momentary indentations on the cushiony bed.

Then there was stillness. She could feel his cool breath at the back of her neck as she lay on her side, still pretending to be deep in slumber.

"Bonnie," he whispered again. Silence.

She felt him lift the white fluffy comforter from her body. He slid underneath beside her and cloaked them both in warmth.

His arm wound smoothly around her tiny waist and she felt herself shudder involuntarily. He felt it too and nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck, brushing against the delicate skin there.

This moment was nothing short of surreal. Damon Salvatore being affectionate with her, the young woman he tried to kill little more than two weeks prior?

Suddenly she felt something soft, wet and not altogether unpleasant roaming along her bare shoulder. His lips seemed just as eager as his hands to explore the length of her body.

She wore only a thin black camisole and matching shorts. Though they may as well have been called 'underwear.' They left little to the imagination - although she was certain his was pretty active to begin with.

Now she simply felt naked.

Bonnie could feel the rigidness of his erection against her bottom. He was pressed so tightly against her, they may as well have been the same person.

Lightly he took one delicate earlobe into his mouth and allowed his tongue to tease and torment her in one fell swoop. He nibbled on the soft, sensitive area in a further bid to awaken her senses.

She couldn't help herself; it just felt so...so good. Bonnie moaned and felt her back arch against him and knew she had just blown her cover.

"So you _are_ awake," he slyly acknowledged, dipping his head back down to her neck.

He continued his assault and smiled his satisfaction each time he heard her breath hitch. This wasn't the first time he had evoked so much enthusiasm from the fairer sex.

There was just something about the way she cried out for him when she knew she was close to...

"Damon," she moaned.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered seductively, pulling the thin strap of her top down and gradually sliding his lips lower.

She was lost in his embrace. "I want you...now," Bonnie commanded.

He allowed his hand to glide across her stomach before slithering slowly beneath her silk panties. While his fingers worked the sensitive nerves there, his lips taunted her, relishing in the exquisite saltiness of her sweat slicked skin.

This was heaven. This was..."Ohhhh!"

Bonnie's body tensed at first, as his teeth pierced her flesh. She could feel the blood rushing out of her and the intense burning sensation of the wound.

The warm red liquid rose forth from the two round puncture marks before cascading down her neck. He lapped up each drop with eagerness, suckling repeatedly.

Her life force was leaving her and she didn't care. _Take me._ It was her silent plea and yet somehow, he seemed to hear.

Damon lifted his head for a moment and beamed down at the writhing witch and obliged her. _As you wish, my love._

"Damon!" Bonnie shrieked.

Her back shot up with a quickness that surprised even her. The young witch clutched her neck and frantically surveyed the scene, looking for any trace of the vampire.

Morning sunlight streamed through the nearby window. The warmth washed over her as she examined the left side of her neck for bite marks. Nothing there.

"Not another one," she groaned, whipping the comforter off of her.

***

"Rise and shine, pumpkin." Damon Salvatore strode casually into his brother's room clasping two mugs of strong, black coffee. "Breakfast in bed?"

Stefan glared at him for a long while before stretching his arm out and accepting the cup. "It's not steeped with vervain, is it?"

"Poisoning vampires? That's _your_ bag, little brother."

"I do what I have to," he replied, taking a whiff of the liquid just in case.

"Still harboring trust issues, I see."

"I can't help it. Guess it's just the effect you have on me," Stefan retorted.

Damon walked over to the cluttered desk in the corner. He began to fiddle with various bits and bobs that his brother somehow managed to consider "prized possessions." The two men proceeded in silence a while longer.

"What do you want?" the younger Salvatore finally asked.

Grinning, he sauntered back to the foot of the bed and allowed himself to fall back onto the mattress. The loud squeak of the springs beneath caused his brother to involuntarily roll his eyes.

Stefan found it hard not to be doing that or crinkling his forehead whenever Damon was around; he was just so damn inspiring.

"What do I want?" he repeated, arms placed behind his head, eyes facing the ceiling. "That's a tough one, doctor. How 'bout a wife, two kids, a house, a white picket fence and a Snuggie? No wait, that's _your_ delusional dream scenario."

"Is there a reason you're in such a chipper mood?" Stefan inquired, tossing his sheets aside so they landed on Damon's face.

"Do I need a reason to bring my baby brother a hot cup of java in the morning?" he smiled, reaching for the blanket and chucking it aside.

"Yes," he replied, sticking his head out from the bathroom briefly.

"Ouch," he responded in mock hurt.

That was enough to garner him a soft chuckle from his brother.

"I had a long night," Damon continued.

"I hope that's not code for 'Stefan, I ate somebody last night,'" he replied, appearing before his brother in light speed. "We can't afford to stir anymore suspicions, Damon. The Council's already curious enough as it is."

"Ease up," he exclaimed, brushing past the younger man. "No, I didn't _eat anyone_ last night...although now that you mention it-"

"Stop playing," Stefan demanded.

"Sheesh, you're in an awful mood this morning. What's the matter? Had another dream I was necking with Elena?"

In the blink of an eye, Stefan had grabbed him by the neck and had him pinned against the wall. The brothers stared intently at one another for the longest while.

Damon knew exactly how to push his buttons, not that it was an exact science or anything. He just found it incredibly enjoyable.

If there was one quick and easy way to provoke a volatile reaction from Stefan, it was definitely through 'Katherine, version 2.0.' At least that was how Damon referred to her every now and then.

While it was true that her miraculous existence stirred something profound inside of Damon, there was no substitute for his buried love. He had never _been_ compelled to love Katherine; he had _felt_ compelled to love her. There was a big difference between the two.

Elena was her physical match. It was in the soft, adorable features of her face and the statuesque frame that used to be adorned in ribbons, the finest silks and contained by corsets.

Sensual death traps, Damon thought. He had no idea how a person could breathe, much less speak in something so obviously designed for torture. Then again, he took great pleasure in unlacing them when the mood struck him.

"Leave Elena out of this." Stefan's icy command brought him out of his fashion reverie.

"Get off me," he bit back, tossing his brother across the room.

The younger man landed with feline grace and quietly observed his brother.

"As entertaining as it is to watch you squirm, this has nothing to do with the fair Elena." Damon left the room then and quickly returned, clutching a brown leather journal. "I had a visitor yesterday."

"Still cozying up to Sheriff Forbes?" Stefan guessed.

"Not yesterday," he smiled. "This particular visitor prefers pointy hats and flying on broomsticks. Oh and if you subscribe to the Samantha Stephens variation of her kind, you might be inclined to believe she can put a spell on you with just the twitch of her nose."

"Why would Bonnie Bennett wanna be in the same room with you?" he asked, naturally assuming this was the witch he was referring to.

Damon decided to play along. "For the various reasons so many women seem to find me absolutely irresistible."

"You didn't touch her, did you?"

"Not in any way she didn't approve of," he smirked.

Stefan's fists were now balled up. He may not have been Bonnie's boyfriend, but he was her friend. She was like a sister to Elena and that meant something to him.

Catching sight of his little brother's growing disapproval, Damon stopped kidding around. "Relax. I haven't seen the little witch since that night in the woods."

Raising his eyebrow curiously, Stefan wagered a guess. "Well seeing as though she'd probably have a bone to pick with you after you tried to eat her granddaughter, how'd things go with _Tituba_?"

"She came bearing gifts," he exclaimed. "Well one gift. A journal."

"Why?" the younger Salvatore replied with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Ever heard of the 'Bellwain Prophecy?'"

"_Bellwain_ - why is that name familiar?" Stefan asked. "Tabitha. _Tabitha Bellwain_?"

"Give the man a prize," his brother declared.

"I don't get it. What does Tabitha Bellwain have to do with _you_?"

"Funny that you ask that. I had the same question. What would a crazy witch from 1864 - who isn't Emily Bennett - have to do with me?"

"And?" Stefan questioned.

"Did you know that Tabitha Bellwain came from a bonafide witching dynasty in Ireland?" Stefan shook his head and urged his brother to continue. "I didn't either. Anyway, as it turns out, she and my dear friend Emily were best buds. They did everything together. That includes casting a very powerful spell, known as-"

"A prophecy spell," Stefan surmised.

"And another point for the brooding gent who really needs to put a shirt on, by the way," Damon quipped. "No need for the fab abs peep show, little brother. I'm not some adolescent girl on the cheerleading squad."

The younger Salvatore rolled his eyes in response.

"So what was the prophecy?" The older vampire handed him the journal.

"Flip to the last page. Her final entry was a doozy. Seems the old witch went a little _'cuckoo'_ and _'Kumbaya'_ before the townspeople lit her up."

Stefan began to read:

_July 6, 1864_

_They're coming. The townspeople have their guns drawn, stakes sharpened and axes at the ready. This is the sad plight of the Supernaturals of Mystic Falls._

_The weres, the vampiric beings and the fairies. So many refuse to stand and fight together, united as one. They have given into their prejudices and so we shall all parish as a consequence._

_This may be our fate tonight, but I will not see our future generations condemned to a life of division and ignorance. Emily and I have taken matters into our own hands._

_We evoked the spirit of the Witch Goddess Elora and have cast a spell. Tonight we chanted a prophecy. It will come to pass when one of our kind reaches the peak of her powers._

_She and another Superntural shall fall madly, feverishly in love. This will usher the way for the birth of a child - the one, true hybrid._

_This child will unite the Supernaturals, should 'the cleanse' come to pass again. A living, breathing symbol of love and unity on Earth. It is all that I have dreamed._

_After living in a world so embroiled in hate and segregation, I cannot allow them to falter in much the same fashion._

_The prophecy will be done. He who thirsts for blood will taste her. She who wields the craft will be his Queen forever._

_I leave this world tonight with a smile upon my face. The future will be bright again.  
_

"You don't think that..." Stefan's voice trailed off then.

Damon stared back at him, wide-eyed and grinning. "Me and the little witch? _Highly_ unlikely."

"Well then why would Tituba give you this?" the younger Salvatore asked, genuinely baffled by now.

"I dunno," he casually replied, playing with another one of Stefan's bits and bobs. "Probably so I'd have a reason not to hurt her precious granddaughter."

"Bonnie hates you," he exclaimed.

"You sure about that?" Damon smirked. "Need I remind you how hard it is to resist a man with sharp fashion instincts, impressive intellectual prowess and a six-pack?"

"You tried to kill her," the younger Salvatore reminded him.

"_'Tried'_ being the operative word. She's still alive. All's well that ends well."

"The child," Stefan continued. "Is that even possible?"

"Once again, highly unlikely," Damon quickly answered. "Besides, only _Twihards_ buy into that theory."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"Nothing. This is obviously something dear Tituba decided to conjure up to keep me from sinking my teeth into her delectable grandwitch. It's all so 'Lord of the Rings,' unite for the greater good like."

"Maybe," Stefan concluded aloud. The mere thought of Damon's child being a "living, breathing symbol of love and unity on Earth" was a joke.

Upon hearing his brother's last thought, the elder Salvatore chuckled in amusement. "Sounds more like spawn of Stefan to me."

***

Bonnie Bennett sat outside under the blazing heat of the morning sunlight. Her copper skin glowed beautifully as she waited for Elena and Caroline at a picnic table in the quad.

Shiny dark locks cascaded over her shoulders, a stunning contrast to the peach perfection of her thin wrap sweater and cinnamon mini.

The blessed event was nearly upon them.

"I can't believe there are only two more days left 'til the dance," the sheriff's enthusiastic daughter beamed.

"Neither can I," Elena chimed in with a smile.

The thought of arriving at the dance on the arm of her handsome new boyfriend made her incredibly giddy. Not to mention, it sent her stomach aflutter in a way that she had never quite felt before.

Elena had chosen a strapless green number with an empire waistline. Her hair would be swept into a straight, sleek half-ponytail.

Caroline Forbes had accepted Tyler Lockwood's surprising invitation weeks ago. It was "absolutely unacceptable" to date guys who weren't "sufficiently popular," she said.

There was little doubt that her date would be "sufficiently pleased" by the little peach confection she would be donning. It had been love at first sight when she saw the short chiffon dress with spaghetti straps.

Matt Donovan swooped in with an invitation for Bonnie not long after Caroline secured herself a date. They had known each other since they were children, which made going to the dance with him comparable to hanging out with your brother.

The one shoulder azure number Bonnie had chosen hit her right at the knees and gave her an air of Grecian royalty. It was cinched in beneath the bust line, emphasizing her slender waist.

Her hair would be perfectly coiffed. Soft, voluminous waves tucked elegantly into an up-do that offered a decidedly appealing view of her shoulders. It was just enough skin to be sultry without being slutty.

"Hey Bon!" Elena shouted as her best friend came into view.

"'Bout time you two showed up!" she beamed. "Where's Stefan?"

The quad was getting set to prepare for next week's history presentation. Stefan would supply the costumes, Bonnie would bring along a batch of freshly baked blueberry muffins for study time sustenance and they would all contribute to the final report.

"He just called," Elena began. "Said Damon was having some car troubles so he needed to help him fix it. Something like that. He should be here any minute, though."

Instantly, her hands went around her neck. _Damon._

Caroline may not have noticed her reaction, but Elena did. She placed her hand reassuringly on Bonnie's shoulder. "You okay?"

It took the green-eyed witch a couple of seconds to realize how quickly and protectively her arms had shot up. All anyone had to do was say his name and instantly, bucket loads of anxiety would come crashing down on her.

Her dreams were another story altogether. The Damon Salvatore who visited her on a nightly basis ignited her senses and took her body one step closer to Heaven - or were those the fires of Hell burning intensely in his sapphire eyes? By the end though, his darker side always prevailed and left her drained and lifeless.

Each time his fangs broke through the surface of her skin, she felt it. She felt everything.

The punctured veins. The throbbing. The vacuum seal his lips created against her neck as he suckled intently.

It seemed so real.

"Earth to Bonnie," Caroline interrupted.

"Y-yeah?" she stammered.

"Distracted much?" the quirky blond remarked.

"Maybe just a little," she admitted. Her cheeks suddenly grew rosy at the thought of his lips sliding down the length of her naked body.

"Wanna talk about it?" Elena gestured.

Talking about her issues with the elder Salvatore brother wasn't perhaps the brightest idea, considering who was with them right now. Caroline and Damon's relationship could be described as several things: cute at first, incredibly twisted and downright abusive.

If the emotional scars weren't enough evidence of that, the bite marks scattered on her body would surely be enough to suffice. Needless to say, after a destructive period of trying to rationalize his otherwise irrational behavior, Caroline Forbes wanted nothing to do with "older, sexy danger guy."

"Maybe later," Bonnie suggested. "So, anyone for homemade blueberry buttermilk muffins?"

The Cheshire Cat-like grins on both girls' faces were all she needed. Bonnie removed the red and white plaid kitchen towel she had placed over the basket and allowed them to dig in.

"Looks good."

Bonnie turned to find a smiling Stefan Salvatore peering hungrily at the basket. Of course it was all a performance for Caroline, considering baked goods weren't really high on his list of dietary requirements, much less foodie faves.

"Stefan," she smiled.

"Sorry I was late," he began. "Damon's car took a lot longer to fix than I thought it would."

"Always the conniving little opportunist, isn't he?" Caroline muttered bitterly in what she believed was a tone of voice soft enough to not be heard.

By the time she looked up and found the other three awkwardly glancing at her, she realized her mistake. "Sorry. Word vomit."

On the other hand, it wasn't like they blamed her. Damon was a scheming opportunist. Murdering Lexi was proof enough, Stefan painfully recalled.

"So Stefan," Elena began in an attempt to reign in the conversation before they got carried away again. "You'll be bringing in the costumes, right?"

"Mmmhmm," he replied with a smile that made her heartbeat quicken a touch.

Observing the faint blush beginning to appear on her cheeks, he reached out and grasped her hand lovingly in his.

I want that, Bonnie and Caroline thought simultaneously.

After discussing the logistics of their 15-minute presentation, the quad sat together for a while longer devouring the remaining muffins.

The three girls were too immersed in discussing how to accessorize their dresses for the dance to notice the way Stefan's gaze lingered on Bonnie.

There was no denying it; she was a natural beauty. That wasn't the reason why he was staring at her, though.

Was she really the powerful witch the journal entry had referred to? She wasn't even at her magical peak yet. Or was it simply loads of rubbish, like Damon had concluded?

Would Tituba really fabricate a prophecy to protect Bonnie? He supposed it was a possibility. After all, he would do anything for the people he loved most.

Or was Bonnie Bennett really destined for supernatural greatness and a lifetime as Damon's Queen?

"We should be heading to Biology now," Elena began.

She and Caroline gathered their belongings and said their quick goodbyes to Bonnie and Stefan before taking off.

"Bonnie, can I ask you something?" he began.

"Sure," she smiled. "What's up?"

"Look, I know we haven't had a chance to talk much, especially since what happened in the woods with Dam-"

Stefan only got half-way through his brother's name when she suddenly began to grasp her head in her hands. Her upper body lurched forth until her forehead was pressed against her legs.

"Bonnie!" He put his arms around her and tried to ease her back into a regular sitting position. "What's the matter?"

"Ahhh!" She wailed as a throbbing pain shot through her nerves.

The little witch could feel her heartbeat speeding up exponentially. It was pounding at marathon speed so loudly that she could hear it.

She could hear everything. Every bird's chirp. Every student's whispered gossip. Every malicious thought.

The physical sounds and the ones she shouldn't have been able to hear - they had all been amplified. Then in an instant it all stopped.

Now the only sound Bonnie could hear was Stefan's worried voice calling her name. "Bonnie, speak to me!"

"Stefan." She needed another moment to gather her thoughts.

What the hell was happening to her? Was this the consequence of being a witch? If so, she wanted nothing more to do with it.

"What just happened?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed into a deep 'V.'

"I-I don't know, Stefan. I really...don't know."

The emerald green lawn had been recently mowed. You could smell it in the air.

***

Each potted flower bloomed healthily, vibrantly and uniquely hued. Tituba Bennett's home was a stunning ode to the brilliance of 1920s residential architecture.

It was in the intricate brickwork and the elegant mouldings. Not to mention, it was etched into the cement on the side of the porch in lettering barely noticeable to the mortal eye - "1924."

"It's about time you paid me a visit," Tituba Bennett declared from the front porch. "Stefan."

"Sorry it took me so long," he acknowledged, offering her one of his most disarming smiles.

She liked him; she always had. Although, the same could not be said for his brother.

It had been 40 years since he last stood in this spot and yet it managed to remain untouched and unscathed by time - like he and Damon. He could see a smile begin to form on the witch's deeply expressive face as she watched him.

She beckoned him forward with her index finger. He followed her into the well lit home and stood for a brief moment observing how, unlike the house, she had changed a great deal.

"Care to sit?" she asked.

Tituba poured herself a cup of piping hot chamomile tea and joined him on the beige sofa near the window. She was only 12-years-old when she first met Stefan Salvatore.

He had always been handsome. His eyes were filled with kindness and sensitivity, but there was a certain quality about him that told you this "good boy" was certainly not opposed to doing the rebel yell when the occasion called for it.

They met on an unbearably humid evening in June. Weather forecasters were baffled by the unseasonably high temperatures and kept insisting to viewers that they "just didn't see this one coming." Guess some things never change.

_Tituba Bennett had been melting away on the front porch of her house, fanning herself and sipping ice tea. In truth, there was more ice than actual tea in her glass._

_Her mother had gone to the supermarket to pick up a tub of ice cream and her father had disappeared when she was just four. Ten years later, he resurfaced in Las Vegas. He had been living with someone called 'Alice.'_

_Needless to say, he had left a "lasting impression" on her - both where parenting and men were concerned. The year she met Stefan had changed her life forever. In the summer of '69, she discovered she was a witch._

_"Alright sweetie, I'm only gonna be a while," Evangeline Bennett told her young daughter._

_She kissed her lightly on her forehead and instructed her to keep the door locked and not to let any strangers inside. Naturally, like any rebellious child of her age, Tituba unlocked the door, sat out on the porch and talked to strangers._

_She wasn't timid like a lot of the other girls in her class. Instead, she was a combination of sugar and spice. Although, the latter ingredient seemed to be the dominant one and that kept her mother on her toes._

_Cars drove by every now and then, crickets called out and the full moon hung high against the dark cloak of the night sky. Looking down at her glass, Tituba saw the ice cubes melting into the rich amber coloured fluid and sighed._

_She really didn't want to move right now. The walk to the refrigerator may have been a short one, but why bother when you could just zap the cubes back into shape?_

_Deep in concentration, she sat with her elbows on the arms of the chair. Her chin was propped up by her hands and her eyes were focused on the clear solids._

_Tituba willed them to stop melting and watched in satisfaction as the cubes that had diminished in size were now just as large as they were when she had taken them out of the freezer._

_"Nice trick, kiddo." The masculine voice came from nearby._

_Remember darling, it's not safe to talk to strangers. Her mother's public service announcement began playing in her head like a song on steady rotation. It was downright annoying._

_"Who's there?" she asked, standing upright. "Show yourself."_

_"Pretty bold there, aren't ya, small fry?"_

_"And just who do you think you're calling 'small fry?'" she asked with a deeply offended look on her young face._

_He slowly emerged from behind the impeccably trimmed hedge. "My apologies," he smiled. "I didn't mean to offend you."_

_Her chilly, defensive expression thawed. "You're a grown up."_

_His hands were placed humbly in the pockets of his jeans. "I don't know if you could really call me a 'grown up.' I'm just 17."_

_"Well I'm 12," she proudly declared. "Pretty soon I'll be a grown up. I can't wait."_

_The young man chuckled at her enthusiasm. "I dunno. Being a grown up might not be all it's cracked up to be."_

_"How would you know? You just said you weren't grown up?" she fired back._

_Her hands were now positioned defiantly on her hips. It made him want to laugh. On the other hand, he figured she might not be too amused by that._

_"Touche. My name's Stefan. What's yours?"_

_The young girl stopped for a moment. The mental tape recording of her mother's voice began to play again. She hit the 'stop' button midway through. "I'm Tituba."_

_"Tituba. I like it."_

_"You live at the boarding house, right?" she guessed. She had seen him passing by before. He was often headed in the direction of the old Salvatore homestead._

_Stefan nodded. "So tell me something, Tituba. How does a 12-year-old reverse the melting of ice with her mind?"_

_She was clearly taken aback. Stefan heard the junior witch's breath hitch slightly. "I-I didn't."_

_"It's okay," he replied, taking two more steps toward her. "I won't tell anyone."_

_"Why not?" she asked, arms crossed over her chest._

_"Because I think it's really...cool," he responded, offering her his friendliest smile._

_"You're not like him," she exclaimed confused._

_"Who?"_

_"Your brother." The little girl wore a confused expression on her face._

_It surprised him that she even knew about Damon. He rarely socialized._

_Instead, he chose to spend his undead years mostly in solitude, save for the occasional literal guest for dinner or sexual partner. Often they were one in the same._

_"You've met-" She cut him off before he could finish._

_"Damon. That's his name, right?"_

_The vampire nodded slowly. "How do you know him?"_

_"He was chatting up Mrs. Lydia Longborn two nights ago," she replied._

_"Aren't you a little young to be out at night?" he asked._

_"Aren't you?" she shot back. "And besides, who are you? My mother?"_

_Feist and a half, he thought. Stefan couldn't help the smirk that spread across his forever young face. She sounded just like that bastard brother of his right now - only cuter._

_"Anyway," she continued to explain. "He caught me spying on them from behind Mrs. Walker's rose bush. He looked pretty mad."_

_"Sounds like him," Stefan replied, suddenly confused. If Damon caught her spying on his late night food run, what stopped him from doing away with the child?_

_"He was doing this gross thing," she added._

_Oh no, he thought. The idiot's gone and blown our cover! "What'd he do?"_

_"He was kissing her...on the neck. Yuck! The thought of a guy slobbering on me like that - it's just...yuck!"_

_"What'd he do when he caught you?"_

_"He gave me twenty bucks and some candy," she smiled. "Told me I could come back in the morning for more if I went straight home and didn't tell anyone what I saw."_

_Damon hadn't compelled her. It was so unlike him. Stefan couldn't quite wrap his mind around what he was hearing, but for the girl's sake, he replaced the baffled look on his face with a more relaxed one._

_"I hope he made good on his offer," Stefan chucked in._

_The pint-sized witch nodded enthusiastically. "Well, I should be going inside now. My mom's gone to the store to pick us up some ice cream."_

_For a brief moment, he remembered what it was like to devour the icy cold, smooth concoction. When he was younger, he favoured vanilla. Then as he grew older, he found chocolate to be more to his liking._

_Damon, on the other hand, had been a chocolate fiend all his life. Their rich Italian heritage meant they weren't only privy to the North American interpretation of the frozen dessert, but also the luxurious creaminess of homemade gelato._

_Sadly, that wasn't on the prescribed menu for the undead._

_"I love ice cream," he beamed. "Chocolate's the best."_

_"I love it too," she smiled back at him. "Well Stefan, it was nice to meet you."_

_"Nice to meet you too, Tituba. Goodnight." He nodded his head in her direction as any gentleman of his day would have done as a lady exited the room._

_As he turned to walk away, he heard the young voice call out to him. "Wait!" Stefan stopped in his tracks and faced the witch again._

_"I never got your last name," she exclaimed._

_"It's Salvatore," he answered proudly. "It means-"_

_"Saviour. In Italian, right?" she asked._

_"That's right. You speak Italian?"_

_"Not really. I know about five words. Mostly bad ones. Okay, four out of five are bad," she admitted with a blush. "Salvatore. I like it."_

_"Me too," he said softly. It was a good, strong name. Unlike Damon, he was still trying to live up to it - even in his afterlife._

_"You'll come back to see me again, won't you?" she inquired, full of hope. It shone in her eyes like the scattered starlight in the sky._

_"But of course."_

"Liar." Tituba Bennett gave him a hard smack on the forearm. "You _never_ came back."

Stefan chuckled. She was still as feisty as ever now - perhaps even more so. "You know why I left, Tituba."

"Everywhere you go, Damon rears his devious head," she supplied.

He nodded with a smile. "You know why I'm here."

Of course she did. Tituba was a master mind reader. She was a witching prodigy of sorts, getting her feet wet in magic at twelve and tackling telepathy by 15.

"He showed you the journal."

Stefan didn't need to open his mouth to speak. _Is it true?_

_Am I reading your mind right now?_ She lifted an eyebrow and smirked at him.

He hung his head back and laughed heartily._ Sassy._

The witch smirked knowingly._ 'Til the day I die._

It took only one meeting between them for her to develop a little crush on an eternally teenaged Stefan. Of course, it had subsided with time and diminished entirely when she met her now deceased husband.

Still, it was fun bantering with the young man. Not to mention, she was certain he had an important role to play when it came to the prophecy.

"It doesn't make any sense, Tituba."

"With magic, things rarely do." She watched as his handsome features became marred by the appearance of a frown.

"Two weeks ago, he tried to kill her," Stefan pointed out.

"Two weeks ago, he tried to kill Emily," she countered. "Believe me, that doesn't excuse what he did. I already told him that if anything more had happened to Bonnie, I would've lit his..."

She could see a grin beginning to form on his face. "Oh, you know what I told him."

"I love what you told him," he confessed. "He needs to hear that every now and then."

"Agreed," she exclaimed with a wicked smile.

"Still though, Bonnie hates Damon. And the journal - the journal said she would be at her magical peak. Bonnie's no where near that right now."

"I know," Tituba replied calmly.

"And it said something about 'the cleanse' coming to pass again. There haven't been any signs of that."

"Haven't there?" she questioned. "So no one's been suspicious? No wooden bullets have been fired at you and your brother in the last four weeks?"

_The Council._ The realization slammed into him with the force of a freight train.

_This is only the beginning._ She placed a hand on his shoulder. _The prophecy will come to pass._

_But the child. It's impossible._

The idea of her favorite granddaughter procreating with Damon Salvatore was not one that she cared to entertain. On the other hand, this was the way Tabitha and Emily had written the story of their lives.

Not to mention, he had kept his word to her ancestor for 145 years. If it weren't for him, she might not be alive and kicking to begin with.

He had been a good man when he was alive.

There was such strength, love and kindness. She desperately hoped there was still some of that lurking beneath his cold exterior for Bonnie's sake.

_Impossible? Nothing's impossible, Stefan._

_Okay, how about completely improbable._

_The concept of a dead man walking seems highly unlikely. Some might even say 'downright improbable.' Yet here you are. Sitting on my couch. Talking to me._

She had a point. In a world where vampires, werewolves and fairies had existed for hundreds of years, who was he to speak of impossibilities and improbabilities? He was a walking, talking example of both.

"Stefan," she continued, this time exercising her vocal chords. "I want you to help Bonnie."

"But you're _already_ helping her," he exclaimed.

"I'm teaching her what I know," she specified. "But you've been around for 146 years. You've seen things I haven't seen, battled other Supernaturals."

"You think it will come to that?" he questioned.

"Most definitely."

He was still reticent to say 'yes.' Helping Bonnie would mean believing in the prophecy.

It would mean the return of that dark chapter in 1864 when humans fought Supernaturals and Supernaturals fought amongst themselves. Not to mention, it would also require he and Damon to start acting like brothers again.

There would be death. There would be unspeakable bloodshed. There would also be a love that he could only describe as 'deeply profound and highly unlikely.'

"Will you do it?" Tituba waited for his reply.

"We'll start tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys, thank you so much for all of the truly kind words. I've got a big list of people to give shout outs to, so bear with me. _

_**DiorNicole**, thank you so much for the very detailed review. I am a huge fan of properly written dialogue that accurately reflects the character in question. The fact that you enjoyed it so much means that I did something right and that thrills me. Thank you!** IfYouFindThis**, I'm so glad you're enjoying the prophecy storyline. It is a central theme throughout this story and just so you know, our characters will be taking a little trip abroad at some point soon. Look out for that! **fanficfan84**, I'm so glad you're digging the character portrayals. **etgoddess**, I love Stefan and Damon's bromance too. They're a pleasure to write! Haha, and I had to throw in something about Twihards - just couldn't resist! **RockerChick08**, first of all, I love your work. Second of all, I love Sheila, so she will continue to be featured throughout as much of my story as possible. Can't say who will or will not die, but there will be bloodshed down the line. **hardygirl21**, thank you so much. You won't have to wait - here's the update! **babyshan211**, thank you for recommending my story! Lots more magic to come! **ILoveRomances**, "Wuthering Heights" was a connection I made a while back, but what can I say. Great minds think alike ;). Thank you so much for that awesome review. **sky samuelle**, your work is fantastic, so I was really stoked to see your comment. Thank you._

_So this week's Coldplay song/chapter title is "You Only Live Twice." Check it out on YouTube and enjoy this story. I'll be updating as often as possible to get everyone caught up. Then I'll unleash chapters 11 and 12!_

**Chapter 3: You Only Live Twice**

Beware The Fior

For hundreds of years, they have lurked beneath the earth. The Fior is filled with power and consumed by intolerance. Their disdain for "the others" is deep and they will do absolutely anything to protect the purity of their kind.

The chosen three are the Lords of the clan. They are the descendants of pure blood witching families.

Most powerful among their people, they were appointed as rulers at the age of 19, when a warlock truly comes into his own. Each Lord is cloaked in a robe of slate grey, reminiscent of what the monks wear.

They gather around the Intuitive Waters, a fountain made of cold, damp, hard rock in order to communicate with their spies or cast spells. Tonight they seek the warlock, Rudyard Duke.

His assignment: Kill the witch; destroy the prophecy.

"We call on him!" they chanted repeatedly in perfect unison. "We call on he who seeks the witch!"

As the fluid stirred and squelched within the stone vessel, a thick cloud of smoke rose toward the ceiling of the cave. They had cast their spirits out into the night sky in search of him.

Finally found, his devious face appeared in the make-shift cauldron, beady eyes that were essentially sinister little slits with violet orbs contained within.

His nose was long with a decidedly pointy tip and his smile was downright revolting. Salt and pepper shoulder length hair fell in one thick, wavy mass.

"Masters," he greeted them in a thick Irish accent. "You summoned me?"

"We did," confirmed the oldest warlock, Lord Everett. "Have you reached the town yet?"

"Indeed," he replied with a reluctant nod. "I am among the inferior specimens of Mystic Falls. How it disgusts me!"

"Patience, Rudyard," Lord Atwater chimed in. Second in command, the lithe man towered over the others. "You must find the witch and put an end to the prophecy."

"The hybrid must never be born," added a pale, bald fellow with a devious green gaze. He was called Lord Davies.

"Never fear," Rudyard declared confidently. "It will not come to pass. I will find the witch and bring her to you, my Lords. She will parish in flames."

Smiles of satisfaction spread across the faces of each warlock. They would see to it that the 'Prophecy of Tabitha Bellwain' was transformed into a meaningless, trivial piece of fiction, as opposed to a reality they were most certainly not willing to wake up to.

"Go now, Rudyard. But hurry!" Everett declared. "You must not allow the witch to reach her magical peak."

With that last bit of motivation, he offered the three a nod of his head and disappeared.

***

Bonnie stood in the tiny jewelry shop admiring a set of cream colored pearl drop earrings. They were the perfect accessory for her azure dress. Matt Donovan wasn't too bad either.

She bit down on her lower lip and fiddled with the small white price tag. To a more privileged teen, $250 would have seemed like virtual chump change. Bonnie was not privileged that way.

Her father made a decent living as a middle school math teacher, but there were still bills to pay at the end of every month. They came like clock work and spending inordinate amounts of cash on items she didn't really need, but only wanted seemed wrong to her.

Even so, she continued to stand there, transfixed by the pearls.

Her plum camisole with lace trim and dark wash skinny jeans hugged her curves deliciously. It was a simple, yet polished look. Certainly, it wasn't "Caroline Forbes appropriate," but it was cute and comfy.

"Why hello there, darling," beamed a short and plump woman in her early 50s.

Maya McCullough was the owner of Georgiana's, a small jewelry shop in town. She and Bonnie's grandmother had become fast friends when they were kids.

They regarded each other as "sisters without the blood tie, but everything else that truly mattered." At least that's how Tituba often described their relationship.

The women never squabbled over the opposite sex, never argued to the point of tears and to her knowledge, they hadn't once forgotten one another's birthday. It was the perfect friendship.

Perfect enough for a discount? Bonnie thought momentarily. Then again, it wasn't like Georgiana's was some big chain store that might not miss the value of a full price sale. Businesses in Mystic Falls depended on them to keep their mostly family run doors open.

The tiny shop looked like a miniature Victorian house gone pastel paint happy on the outside and treasure trunk cozy on the inside. Delicate purples, pinks and blues on the exterior gave it a certain Easter egg feel.

On the other hand, Bonnie appreciated it for the quiet. Technically she was on her lunch break, but instead of scarfing down her tuna on rye, she opted for a quick trip into town.

"Auntie My," Bonnie beamed, wrapping her arms affectionately around her.

"So I see you've stumbled upon the Elizas," she exclaimed, pointing at the pearls.

"The Elizas?" the witch questioned.

'Auntie My' also just happened to be a tad on the eccentric side. "Oh, it's just my pet name for those two beauties."

"Why?" Bonnie inquired, an eyebrow arched in wonderment.

"They just remind me so much of my mother," Maya admitted softly with a smile. "She used to have a pair just like 'em. You wanna try 'em on?"

On the one hand, trying on the earrings didn't mean she had to buy them. But what if she liked them so much she couldn't bring herself to put them back down again?

"I really shouldn't," she responded sadly.

"But they'd look gorgeous on you. You're such a pretty girl, Bonnie Bennett. Really, I-I demand that you try on these earrings." Poor Auntie My. Even when she was trying to sound strong and authoritative, she came off soft and squeaky - like a mouse.

"Really Auntie My, I shouldn't."

"And why not?" the shorter woman asked.

"Honestly? I'm just scared. Scared that I'm going to love them so much that I'll never be able to put them back down again."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Maya returned.

"If your bank account can handle a dent the size of 250 bucks," she answered. "They're beautiful. They may be the most gorgeous earrings I've ever seen in my life. But I just can't afford them."

Maya placed a supportive arm around Bonnie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It reminded her of those moments when she was a child.

Once she had come home from school crying her little six-year-old eyes out. A little boy who she had a crush on had accused her of having "cooties," the most widely feared affliction this side of the nearest jungle gym.

Little did she know, that dreadful little boy was actually the Mayor's son. Tyler Lockwood had since apologized on numerous occasions.

Auntie My had comforted her, placing her hand reassuringly on her back, just as she was doing now. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, made her a nice cup of hot cocoa and watched "The Wizard of Oz" with her.

So many bad witch stereotypes, she thought. At least there was Glinda.

Bonnie left the store empty-handed, but slightly less heartbroken. That was mainly thanks to Maya's gentle refrain of "Don't worry. One day you'll be unimaginably wealthy! You'll be able to buy all the pearls, Ferraris and Manolo Blahniks your little heart desires."

It was purely superficial, but it managed to lift her out of her temporary funk.

Bonnie reached into her chocolate brown bag and began one of the hardest tasks for big bag offenders the world over - finding one's car keys. "Come on, where are ya? You can't be that far?"

In her rush to get to the store, Bonnie had chucked a clumsily stapled handout into her bag. Unfortunately the tip of her finger met with the sharp end of the shiny object and now a small dot of blood sat on her skin.

Bonnie sucked on the tiny wound. The saltiness of the blood left an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth, causing her lovely features to contort into a disgusted expression.

"Ah, success!" she beamed, finally grasping her keys.

She opened the door and was about to get in when the incessant cawing of a crow caught her attention. It instantly reminded her of passing out in the bathroom.

That was the last sound she had heard before blacking out and tumbling onto the unsanitary, strange disease-harboring, high school girl's bathroom floor.

_Ugh. Must wash face. Again._

Bonnie looked around, still hearing the distinct sound of the bird. Her eyes were drawn to a telephone wire directly above the Prius.

There it stood, a mysterious black feathered creature. If she didn't know any better, it was cawing specifically at her.

_Creepy bird._ She swiftly got into her vehicle and drove back to school.

***

By the time Bonnie had managed to reach Robert E. Lee High, rumors had already begun to swirl about Alaric Saltzman. It seemed the resident hot history teacher had elected to take a sudden sabbatical.

No one knew where he was heading or with whom. Needless to say, the mood was pretty sullen among the girls Bonnie shared class with.

"Hey," Elena called out, coming to sit beside her. "You hear about Saltzman?"

"Yup," Bonnie sighed disappointed. "Wonder who's gonna be subbing in for him."

They didn't have to wait long for that answer.

"Hello class," exclaimed a short, balding man with one of the worst comb overs Bonnie had ever seen.

Royston DeWitt's unfortunate hairstyle had been a longstanding topic of discussion at Robert E. Lee. For the past fifteen years, both teachers and students had been perplexed and fascinated by the thin streaks of hair that criss crossed over his pale skin.

He was a soft-spoken man with a slight stutter when he spoke. "A-As I'm sure you've all been hearing, Mr. Saltzman will be away from school for the next little while."

Caroline couldn't be silenced. She had to know where her "future husband" and "all that was sacred about Robert E. Lee" had run off to and how much longer it might be before she got the chance to feast her eyes upon him again.

"And what exactly constitutes a 'little while?'" she asked without raising her hand first.

The older man gulped loudly. "Well I'm not really at liberty to say. Anyway, I'm sure Principal Rogers will let you know the minute there's anything new to report."

"What a drag," Caroline wailed, forgetting to turn the volume down on her voice box.

Mr. DeWitt's shoulders immediately fell, as he instructed the class to open their textbooks.

So much for sensitivity, Bonnie thought, reaching for a pen.

She whipped open her notebook and began filling in the date at the top right corner of a blank page. _Guess Mr. Saltzman has somewhere else he needs to be._

The teenage witch suddenly began to feel a searing pain coursing through every nerve. She began to cradle her head in her hands, causing Stefan, Elena and Caroline to lean forward at once.

"Ahhh!" she yelped, feeling the pangs grow even more intense.

"Bonnie!" Elena cried.

There it was again - the violent onslaught of thoughts that clearly didn't belong to her:

_What the hell is wrong with her?_

_Um, yeah. Can we please be any more dramatic?_

_Miss-us Al-ahh-ric Saltzman...okay no. Miss-us Caro-line Saltz-man. Perfection! Eeeee!_

"Caroline!" Bonnie screamed, momentarily forgetting the cute blond hadn't actually flapped her lips.

No, Bonnie thought. She's just thinking about her impending marriage to a man twice her age when I'm practically dying here!

Both Caroline and Elena looked confused and slightly horrified. Stefan, on the other hand...she caught the most peculiar smile form on his face for about a millisecond.

"Mr. DeWitt, she needs to see the nurse," Elena declared in a take-charge tone of voice.

The frazzled history teacher simply nodded quickly and pointed in the direction of the door. Stefan and Elena held onto her as they moved in the direction of Nurse Yvette's office.

"Wait for me!" Caroline called, running after them like a teenage girl in hot pursuit of a Beatle, circa 1964.

"Caroline, we've got it," Elena exclaimed trying not to frown.

It was pretty obvious the blond wasn't keen on sticking around for History class. A trip to the nurse's office was like a walk in the park versus a lecture with the "master of monotone" himself.

"Well _excuse_ me," she bit back. "Forgive me for being concerned about _my_ best friend."

Caroline, Stefan and Elena sat around Bonnie as she waited to be seen by the nurse. Her head was still throbbing uncontrollably, but at least now there were only three voices inside of it; not twenty-six hormonal ones.

"How's your head feeling?" Stefan inquired with genuine concern in his eyes.

"Want. To. Die." Those were the only words she could string together in that moment.

Elena and her boyfriend exchanged worried glances. They didn't know how to help Bonnie. She looked so helpless, with her head in her lap and their arms wound around her waist.

Finally the nurse emerged and the trio helped Bonnie to her feet. Giving them a nod and a hand signal that she was a-okay to stand alone, she attempted her first independent step.

Bonnie Bennett fell flat on her face.

***

She woke up twenty minutes later in a cold sweat. Bonnie slowly attempted to open her eyes. The few images she could see were still fuzzy thanks to her drowsiness.

Feeling the soft cotton beneath her fingertips, she realized she was now lying on the bed in the nurse's station with the curtains drawn fully around her.

Squinting hard, she noted the familiar silhouettes behind. Stefan and Elena looked like they were in the midst of an intense discussion.

"What's wrong with her, Stefan?" Elena asked in desperation. "This has been happening way too often lately. It's not like Bonnie."

Softening her voice a touch, she leaned in closer to the vampire. "Do you think this has anything to do with...well you know who?"

"_Damon?_" he replied softly, causing Bonnie's ears to perk up immediately.

Grasping her hand, he led the pretty brunette to a corner farther from the bed, just out of earshot. "If anything, I was wondering what kind of effect drinking so much of a witch's blood would have on _him_."

"What do you mean?" she questioned him.

"He nearly killed her, Elena."

Grimacing at the memory, she sighed. "You don't have to remind _me_. _I_ was there. I watched that _son-of-a-bitch_ attack and maul my best friend. If it wasn't for you..."

"Don't think like that," Stefan soothed, rubbing his hands on her back in a comforting circular motion. "There's more to Bonnie than I think a lot of us realize."

Elena broke free from his embrace and stared curiously into his eyes. "_More to her than we realize_ - what does that even mean? Stefan, do you know something that I don't about Bonnie?"

If the little witch hadn't been fully awake before, her eyes were now wide and her ears fully alert.

"Maybe you should sit," he suggested, scooting down so she would follow suit.

"Fine. I'm sitting. Now tell me. This is my _best friend_ we're talking about, so I wanna know everything you know."

Stefan nodded and smiled at her loyalty. It was one of the things he loved most about Elena.

"I went to see Tituba Bennett yesterday," he began.

"Why would _you_ need to see Grams?" she asked, leaning in closer.

"Because _Grams_ paid Damon a visit...and she called me."

Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing. She sure hoped Tituba put a hex on Damon. "Please tell me she turned him into an insect before squishing him with her shoe."

She could hear the uneasiness in Stefan's laughter. It instantly reminded her that she had issued a death wish on his brother's head. "Oh Stefan, I'm sorry. It's just-"

"I know what he's like," he replied, weaving his fingers through hers.

He never ceased to amaze her; so full of understanding, he was grace under fire when the occasion called for it and her fierce protector when she needed him to be.

"So tell me. Why did Grams go see Damon?"

_Yeah. Why the hell did she?!_

Immediately, Stefan's eyes shot over to the white curtains. Bonnie was awake and listening in on their entire conversion. He could hear her thoughts so clearly.

"Alright, where is she?" Tituba Bennett asked loudly, stepping through the door frame.

"Grams," Elena exclaimed, hugging the older woman like she was her own mother.

The truth was, she had spent so much time as a child with Bonnie and her grandmother that she may as well have been a blood relative.

"Hello sweetie," she smiled warmly. "Stefan."

"Ms. Bennett," he said with a grin. It was strange not calling her by her first name, since he was really so much older than she was.

"Behind the curtain," Elena told her, pointing a finger in the direction of the bed.

Bonnie pretended to still be asleep, hoping no one would be the wiser. She couldn't have Stefan and Elena thinking she had been eavesdropping - even though she had been.

Deep down, she was also hoping that the three of them would wind up discussing Grams' visit with Damon. Then maybe she'd finally learn the secret they were all (with the obvious exception of Elena) trying to keep from her.

Tituba whipped open the curtain and found her granddaughter in supposed slumber. Smiling knowingly to herself, she could hear the onslaught of thoughts and questions flowing actively through Bonnie's mind.

"Time to wake up, sweetie." She placed the palm of her hand against her cheek and waited for her to stop the act.

Smiling at the two teens beside her, she placed her purse on the ground and began tickling the young witch on the stomach. It may not have been magic, but it was just as effective, if not more so.

Instantly, she sprung forth from the bed in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"So nice of you to join the living," she began, before looking over at Stefan. "...and _him_."

***

That night the dinner table at Grams' was particularly crowded. She made her famous meatloaf with sweet tomato sauce on top and crispy fried onions with buttery garlic mashed potatoes on the side.

The women devoured every course in lightspeed, as Stefan looked on in amusement. He, of course, had already excused himself for a light snack in the woods nearby.

"Now I know you've got that whole eternal youth thing going for you," Bonnie began. "But there is no way I'm givin' up real food for a 24/7 fluid diet."

"Ditto!" Elena exclaimed, her mouth still stuffed to the max with potatoes.

"Ahem," Grams skillfully interrupted. "I was thinking that after you girls are done scarfing down the remaining contents of my kitchen, we could go for a little late night walk."

"Okay," Bonnie replied, inhaling her final slab of meatloaf.

As soon as the two girls felt slightly less bloated from their evening feast, the foursome took to the sidewalks.

"Exactly what the doctor ordered," Tituba breathed. "A nice stretch of the legs after a satisfying meal."

They walked for nearly an hour before reaching the small cluster of elm trees that led to the woods. The branches were swooped gracefully outward.

In the day, they were tall, picturesque Virgina natives. At night, they were startlingly beautiful giants in the dark.

Bonnie and Elena exchanged curious glances as Grams continued walking into the secluded stretch of land. "Uh, Grams," Bonnie called out. "Maybe we should be heading back now. We've been walking for a while now. My legs feel stretched."

"Yeah. _Totally stretched_," Elena threw in for good measure.

"Come on, you lazy bones," she replied, still walking deeper into the woods.

Stefan simply smiled to himself and continued to walk beside them. There was a greater purpose for their trek. The girls would find that out soon enough.

"Here we go," Tituba exclaimed, stretching out her arms.

"What's Grams doing?" Elena asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

She had stopped in a circular patch of grass, surrounding by even taller trees. There was something more haunting about the way their branches stretched into the night sky.

Stars were out in every direction as far as the eye could see. There were few sounds, save for the occasional hoot of owls or chirping of nearby crickets.

"Incendia!" Roaring flames suddenly surrounded the older woman. Bonnie and Elena watched in horror as they grew taller and more ferocious.

"Grams!" the little witch screamed. "What are you doing?"

"Watch and learn," she smiled, never flinching from the heat in such close proximity.

Whipping her arms into a straight, firm line, she shouted from the top of her lungs: "Stad!"

The fire ceased, leaving behind faint smoke as the only indication it had ever burned there. Jaws dropped in shock and awe, the girls ran to Tituba.

"Why did you do that?" Bonnie asked frantically. "You could have been _killed_."

"Not if you know what you're doing," she replied.

"Well I recognize the first part of what you said," the young witch acknowledged, her mind drifting back to the night Damon attacked her.

"I figured you might. 'Incendia' is the command those of our kind use to inflame or ignite objects."

"Like the amulet," Elena supplied. "But how did you make it stop. What was that you screamed?"

"You girls know any Gaelic?" she smirked.

"It means 'stop.' _Stad_ - it's Gaelic for 'stop,'" Stefan inserted.

"You speak _Gaelic_?" Elena asked, eyes wide with surprise and intrigue.

"A little," he admitted. "Lexi's ex-boyfriend was proficient in it."

"You learn something new everyday," Tituba beamed. "So kiddo, you ready to give this a try or what?"

Grabbing her granddaughter by the hips, she placed her in the center of the circle and leaped to Stefan and Elena's side. "Loud and clear," she began. "Say it firmly. Say it with confidence. Most of all, believe it."

"Believe what?" she queried, looking utterly baffled.

"That you can do this," Tituba answered. "I believe you can."

"So do I," Stefan smiled.

"Why?" Bonnie asked. "Why do you believe? I'm just a teenager. I couldn't even do half the stuff I did that night in the woods without Emily. I was _possessed_. Remember?"

"And?" her grandmother responded harshly. "You think the only reason Emily chose to possess you was because you were related to her?"

"Why else would she do it?"

"Maybe because she knows you're destined for greatness," Stefan exclaimed, coming to meet her within the circle. "You're from one of the most powerful witching families Mystic Falls has ever seen. Magic chose_ you_. We only want to help you."

"So this was a set up?" She looked from her grandmother to the vampire who now stood beside her.

"Now hold up there," Tituba feistily threw in. "We've _already_ been delving into the craft together...there are just some things I'll need help showing you how to do."

"That's where _you_ come in," she exclaimed, looking to Stefan. He nodded his confirmation.

"We're doing this because we care about you, Bonnie," her grandmother said softly.

Turning her attention to Elena, she could clearly see she wasn't the only one caught off guard by this impromptu magic lesson. "Wait. How come _I_ didn't know about this, Stefan?" Elena asked softly.

"I didn't have time. I _wanted_ to explain everything to you today, but everytime I tried to, something always got in the way."

Stefan grasped Elena's hand and apologized once more. "I promise, I'll tell you everything you want to know when we're done here."

The young witch was hoping she'd be clued into the full story as well and not the abbreviated Coles' Notes version of just _how much more to her there really was_.

Bonnie's eyes locked with her best friend's. "I believe in you too, Bonnie. Always have, always will," she encouraged her.

Gathering all the courage and strength in her heart, she leaped into the air and shouted her command. The fire burned brightly, casting a bewitching glow on her caramel skin.

"Now remember Bonnie, you can use the fire to destroy objects, obliterate your enemies. The burning will cease after that. But without an object to inflame, you must will it to stop _using your mind_. Concentrate."

She nodded her head, while her body remained unmoved in the center. She had to keep the heat at bay. Recollecting her grandmother's Gaelic call, she echoed it: "Stad!"

The flames continued to burn. If anything, they had grown in height.

"Stad!" she repeated.

Still nothing happened.

"Stad!"

No change.

"Now! Stad!"

The smoke was beginning to seep into her lungs.

Was this how she would die? Young and alone in a ring of fire?

"Grams!" she shouted. "Please! Help me!"

Her vision continued to become even more blurry. She could see running figures between the flames. Elena, Stefan and Grams were frantic - and she was dying.

She felt her body weaken and her legs begin to give out. It was getting harder to breathe and whenever she tried to, all that seemed to rise forth were dry, strained coughs.

"Help me! Sta-" She collapsed onto the soft mat of grass and felt everything begin to slow down.

Bonnie's eyes began to shut, as a weightlessness overtook her. She used every last ounce of strength she had left to will her eyes open and there, staring back at her was the one person she feared the most.

"Damo-" She couldn't muster the strength to finish his name. It came out in a hush, barely audible to the human ear, but completely noticeable to him.

"Yes. I know, little witch."

He moved through the air with a speed she had never seen, much less felt before. Damon carried her in his arms, his leather jacket getting singed by the flames and yet, he didn't seem to care.

"I'm ruining a perfectly good Italian leather jacket for you," he remarked with furrowed brows.

So much for selfless gestures... Then again, this was Damon Salvatore; he never did anything without an ulterior motive.

The jacket was draped over him like a hooded cape, as he kept her tightly pressed against his chest. The unpleasant odour of charred earth hung heavily in the air.

"You saved m-" Her vocal chords just weren't cooperating. Then again, given the amount of smoke she had just inhaled, they couldn't be held accountable for their inability to function right.

"You could have died," she managed to finish before succumbing to exhaustion.

She passed out in his embrace, head hanging to the side. "No need to remind me," the blue-eyed vampire remarked saucily.

He landed with his own particular brand of grace on the grass. Placing her into Stefan's arms, he began to walk away.

The three of them stood taken completely aback by the scene that had just unfolded before their eyes. Damon had saved a life, but not just anyone's life. He had saved Bonnie Bennett from perishing in the flames.

"By the way, Tituba" he started, turning to face the group again. "I'd try starting with something a little simpler than a fire spell. Things usually tend to get out of hand with those," he finished, pointing at the orange bursts of heat.

He began to walk further from them, but stopped. "Oh and I'd see if the unconscious witch needs a little Stefan juice," he said pointing to the thick vein along his wrist. "She inhaled _a lot_ of smoke. Should be fine after a little _juice_."

Everyone's mouths were still agape. "Might have a sore throat though. Could end up sounding like the Godfather," he smirked.

Damon placed a hand over his chest and began to mimic the trademark husky tones of the movie mob boss. There it was - a sliver of the sly, cheeky bastard he really was.

"Oh and _Elena_," he continued. "Call the fire department."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! Thank you so much for all of your wonderful comments. I appreciate them from the bottom of my fan fic writing/reading heart! First of all, a massive thanks goes out to:_

_**glasvegas, fanficfan84, RockerChick08, babyshan211, saderia, etgoddess, Impress, ladySnowRose and ILoveRomances**_

_Your thoughts and opinions definitely add fuel to any writer's fire. You definitely gave me some things to think about for chapter 11 ;). In the meantime, enjoy this one and let me know what you thought! _

Chapter 4: I Ran Away

Tituba was still unsure as to why the incantation hadn't worked right. The thought of Bonnie standing there so helplessly in the middle of a ring of flames made her wince in pain.

She had never seen it go so horribly wrong. The fire spell wasn't even the most complex one she had yet to teach her. Of course, whether or not she continued with the lessons would depend on just how frightened Bonnie was feeling now when it came to magic.

Explaining a supernaturally induced forest fire was difficult enough and there were already more than enough people who suspected Tituba of witchcraft. All she needed was to ignite further suspicion by being at the scene of a peculiar fire in the woods.

So she did the only thing that made sense at the moment. She held onto her granddaughter and began the trek home, while Stefan and Elena crept back onto the sidewalk that divided the woods and the town. As skillfully as they could, the twosome staged a scene.

"Stefan, oh my God! The woods - the woods are on fire!" Elena shouted, causing a couple preoccupied with each other's lips to immediately look up.

"Somebody call the fire department!" Stefan yelled. "Anyone! Does anyone have a phone?"

The young man who had been making out with his girlfriend, unwound his arms from her waist and retrieved his iPhone. It took a mere seven minutes for the Mystic Falls Fire Department to arrive on the scene.

Extinguishing the flames, on the other hand, took much longer. Two hours later, they had finally managed to fully contain the blaze and keep it from engulfing the rest of Mother Nature.

Stefan and Elena gave their statements to the police, along with the random couple and left the scene of the crime.

***

"I'm a hypocrite," Bonnie said horrified. "I drive a Prius to be green and I just torched the woods!"

"It wasn't your fault," Tituba soothed, rubbing her back gingerly. "It was mine."

Bonnie's physical state had improved some after Stefan gnawed at his own wrist and allowed her to drink from him. This was the second time she'd tasted his blood.

No matter how hard she had tried to pretend the red liquid was Kool-Aid, the taste reminded her of anything but. It was salty and metallic; unlike the sugary beverage she would much rather have been consuming.

Stefan and Elena had agreed to keep up the pretense that the fire in the woods was simply some natural occurrence. None of them would speak the truth about what happened that night - at least not the four of them.

There was one other person she was worried about. Damon.

He had swooped into the circle like a bird landing in its nest. For the same reasons humans avoid getting burnt, vampires always steered clear of flames - certain demise.

Yet he had risked it all to pluck her from the brink of death. Why?

One possible answer came to mind. "Grams," she began. "I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"Of course," Tituba Bennett replied, taking her hand. "What's on your mind?"

"Why did you go see Damon at the boarding house?"

The older witch hadn't expected that. She had become very skilled at shielding her thoughts from those she wished to remain oblivious to her gifts - which led her to her next question...

"How do _you_ know about that?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," Bonnie insisted.

"I beg to differ."

"Why did you need to see him, Grams?" Bonnie was determined to get her answers. There would be no beating around the bush tonight - not after what she had just gone through.

There was only one way to truly convey the importance of her visit with Damon. Tituba rose from the beige sofa and went into her study to retrieve a black leather journal.

"I wasn't really sure how I was going to explain all of this to you," she started, taking a seat beside the confused teenager. "You can read the rest later. For now, take a look at the last entry."

_July 6, 1864_

_The townspeople have gone mad. They're coming for us - all of us._

_The witches, the vampires, the weres. Even the fairies don't stand a chance. Mayor Abbott is intent on carrying out this blasted extermination._

_It all reeks of insanity and yet, here we are in the midst of even more ignorance and intolerance. As if we needed anymore of that in a century riddled with it._

_Tabitha and I tried to reason with the Supernaturals, but they refuse to stand together and fight. They've left us no choice._

_Tonight we chanted a prophecy that will change the world forever. Two Supernaturals will come together, bound by unconditional love._

_One shall be of our kind; the other will lust for blood. They will bear a child together - a hybrid, in the truest sense of the word._

_There is something else. In supplying Tabitha with the blood that flows through my veins, I have tied the Bennetts to the prophecy._

_A witch from my bloodline and the dead man who walks. He will taste her blood and she will be his Queen for an eternity._

_Their child will be the answer to our prayers - a symbol of peace and unity, should 'the cleanse' return to Mystic Falls._

"Grams, you can't be serious."

She had never seen her granddaughter look so bewildered at any point in her life. Bonnie had her hand placed protectively over her heart, eyes wide in response to what she had just read.

"Is this real?" she shrieked finally.

"It's called the 'Prophecy of Tabitha Bellwain,'" Tituba softly began to explain. "And _that journal_ you've got there, belonged to your great, great, great, great grandmother."

"_Emily Bennett_," Bonnie chucked in. "So let me get this straight. Not only did she possess my body and nearly get me killed, but she's also condemned me to an eternity with _the man who tried to do it_? Have I got that right?"

Slowly and filled with insurmountable regret, Tituba nodded her reply.

Eyes bulging from their sockets, the witch yelped hysterically. "No! I don't believe it! I don't believe you!"

"Why would I lie?" Tituba tried to reason with her. "I love you, Bonnie. With every fiber of my being, I love you. Do you think this is what I _wanted_ for you?"

"I will _never _love him," she exclaimed bitterly through gritted teeth. "I'd rather _die_ than be in the arms of someone so cruel...so, so _vile_!"

Utterly baffled and outraged by the insinuation of a lifetime with Damon Salvatore, the young witch flew off the sofa in a huff and climbed the stairs to her room.

Her grandmother called after her, but to no avail. Sighing, Tituba decided it was only fair to grant her a moment alone - especially after the night she had just experienced.

***

Bonnie stood before the full length mirror in her room observing her slender 17-year-old frame. Her brown cheeks were now flushed bright cherry and soaked with tears. She wondered silently how her world had gone topsy turvy in so little time.

_Why on earth would anyone leave the fate of the Supernatural world in the hands of a teenage witch - and a coldblooded killer?_

Had they all suddenly gone and lost their minds? Sure, it had been a case of random selection among Bennett women, but did the fates honestly expect her to be okay with having a child so young? And could they at least have chosen someone for her with a little more compassion?

Needless to say, there were enough public advisory posters on the bathroom walls at Robert E. Lee describing the consequences of sex without a condom and teen pregnancies were always either number one or two.

She had seen them so often it was hard not to memorize the tiny bullet points about the new responsibilities "you and Billy will need to start taking on - all while cramming for the SATs."

Bonnie lifted her shirt just high enough to reveal her flat, toned stomach. She placed her hand right above her navel and began to rub gently in a smooth, circular motion.

_Someday I'll have a child...but it sure as hell won't be with Damon Salvatore._

Lifting the plum tank top over her head, she tossed it into a wicker laundry basket and walked into her closet. She could still smell the burning trees even though it had been nearly three hours since they had left the woods.

She honestly had tried hard to control the flames. Her heart and mind worked together, willing the chaos to stop. Why then did it not?

The young witch emerged from her closet clad in a pair of thin black yoga pants and a peach t-shirt. She lifted the white comforter on her bed and crawled beneath to warm herself.

Her eyes came to rest upon the black leather journal again. It lay mere inches from her feet. It was bound together by a thin strap and heavily worn.

Just as she was about to reach for it, the ringing of the doorbell filled the house. Immediately, Bonnie rose to her feet and went to the window. There on the porch stood Stefan and Elena in their usual hand holding, facing each other in adoration stance.

Turning ever so slightly, she caught sight of a twitching among the leaves in the tree just outside. It wasn't particularly windy tonight, she thought.

There it was again. The sudden movement of green against green. Unlocking the window, she slid it open just a touch.

The doorbell rang again and as it sounded, a large black crow fluttered its wings and flew off into the night sky.

***

"Stefan told me everything," Elena told Grams. "Do you really believe it?"

The three of them sat in the living room and spoke in hush tones. Bonnie was already upset; no need to ruffle her feathers anymore tonight with talk of Damon.

"I don't want to," Tituba admitted. "But everything I know about Emily, Tabitha...their powers and that spell..."

"Well maybe there's some kind of reversal spell," the slender brunette chimed in. "If they could chant the prophecy into existence, maybe you can-"

"No." Her answer came fast and firm. "What's been prophesied cannot be reversed - not through _magical means_."

"Then _what_ means?"

Grams crooked her index finger at the two teens and beckoned them forward. "_Death_."

"No!" Elena shrieked, suddenly unable to control her vocal chords.

"But their fates have already been sealed," Stefan inserted. "They can't die."

"There are _others_ out there who would seek to destroy them and keep the prophecy from coming to pass," the witch revealed. "If anything ever happened to Bonnie..." Her voice trailed off then, as she shook her head in silence.

"_Others_. Like _who_?" Stefan questioned.

"Other witches, warlocks, werewolves...the pure blood extremists-"

"_Pure bloods? Werewolves_ - they exist?" Elena spat.

Tituba nodded. "They have for centuries. We live in a world with an underbelly of supernatural activity that would send the mortals into a fit of hysteria if they knew it existed."

"Just how big of an underbelly are we talking?" the human teen inquired.

"Darling, there are witching clans on _every_ continent. The same goes for weres, fairies and vampires. Just because you rarely see Asian or Indian vampires on _True Blood_, doesn't mean they don't exist," Tituba explained. "Great ancient civilizations. They're among the oldest of their kind."

"Whoa," the teen remarked, running her fingers through her hair. "Talk about a night of revelations."

"Do_ the others_ know the exact identities of the chosen two?" Stefan queried.

"No," she replied, drawing sighs of relief from both he and Elena. "Fortunately Emily and Tabitha placed protection spells on their journals. Only Bennett and Bellwain women may open them...or the chosen vampire, himself. These books have been closely guarded by my family for over 145 years."

"But _I_ saw it," Stefan chucked in.

"You and Damon share a bloodline," she began. "That would be enough. And he gave you consent to read from it."

"Do you think _the others_ are already in Mystic Falls?" Elena asked.

"Honestly, I...don't know," Tituba answered solemnly.

Bonnie sat on the staircase and allowed each revelation to seep into her brain.

On the one hand, some might argue she should feel proud that the fates had chosen her to mother a child of peace and unity. Then again, that also meant a future with Damon.

It also meant her life would be in a perpetual state of danger and uncertainty.

She crept back up the staircase, attempting to exit quietly. The creaking of the aged oak gave her away as Stefan and Elena caught sight of her.

Looking guilty as ever, she made her way down the steps and into the living room. Landing with a soft thud against the cushion of an armchair, she kept her eyes on the Persian rug.

"Guess I don't have to ask how much of that you just heard," Tituba surmised.

"How can you be so certain it's me?" Bonnie asked, feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of information.

"You're the first Bennett woman that's ever been tasted by a vampire," she answered simply.

The thought made her skin crawl and her heart falter simultaneously. Of all the firsts she'd _never_ wanted...

***

_Bonnie stood barefoot on the richly hued hardwood floor of a home much larger and far more palatial than her own. She had never been here before._

_Her hair had been lightly tousled into a silky mass. She wore a long black gown with thin straps and lace trim. Tiny goosebumps sprang up on the surface of her exposed skin._

_There was a chill in the air. The witch rubbed her forearms repeatedly, hoping it would warm her even just a touch. _

_Her eyes surveyed the scene. The moldings, the arches, the antique paintings that adorned the walls. Everything had managed to maintain its luster throughout the years.  
_

_She called out, hoping there would be someone nearby to answer. Nothing in return. No sound, no creaking of footsteps nearby.  
Bonnie appeared to be more or less alone._

_The little witch eyed the mahogany staircase curiously. Slow, reluctantly, she began to climb her way to the second floor. _

_Once she arrived at the intermediate landing, she could hear a steady stream of music emerge from a room to her right. It was a hauntingly beautiful arrangement with a passionate, almost mournful violin solo._

_She followed its alluring sound and found it was only a matter of time before she found herself standing in the doorway of a dimly lit room with blood red paint on the walls. Candles were scattered, illuminating everything in sight. _

_Bonnie's gaze shifted from the black iron-framed bed sitting against the wall to an Edison cylinder phonograph that looked as though it had been plucked straight from a shop in the early 1900s._

_Elegant drapes sheathed the large windows nearby. The fabric was rich with intricate designs and embroidered with gold threading along the edges. Her lips were parted in awe of the opulent surroundings. _

_"I take it you approve of my humble abode?" a deep male voice hissed seductively into her right ear._

_A chill ran down her spine. She could feel his icy breath dance across the delicate skin of her neck and shivered lightly. He snaked his arms around her waist and brought their bodies closer together. _

_The vampire allowed his left hand to linger languorously, while his other launched a sensual exploration of her young, fertile body. He traced slow, steady circles around her navel with his index finger before allowing it to glide up the length of her frame. _

_His hand froze for a moment before he whispered mischievously into her ears: "Where would you like me to touch you next?"_

_Slowly cupping her breast and massaging one nipple erect, he allowed his mouth to brush against her cheek. "Here?" _

_He moved lower this time, first stroking her fabric cloaked thigh before squeezing it. "What about here?"_

_Finally his hand slithered upward again. Resting against the soft raven curls beneath her gown, Damon __trailed his lips along the satin butterscotch of her bare shoulders__ and allowed his canines to graze her lightly. "Or maybe **this** is where you really want me."_

_Her breath hitched. Before she could respond, he turned her body in his arms and stared deeply into her eyes. There was something fiery and so erotic in his ice blue gaze._

_He continued to study her, knowing full well the effect his mere presence was having on her. "Damon," Bonnie began, almost breathless. "This can't...we can't."_

_His black shirt was unbuttoned and left just enough of his toned chest and abdomen exposed to make her voice catch in her throat again._

_He was beautiful and he knew it. Even worse, he knew she knew it._

_She pressed her palms against his chest in a bid for freedom. Resistance was futile. His lips came down hard upon hers in a penetrating expression of hunger._

_Bonnie felt her knees weaken slightly and would have surely fallen onto the floor if not for the secure grip of his arms around her waist. She felt his tongue against her lips, trying to reach the warm sweetness of her mouth._

_She wasn't about to relent, no matter how attractive he was. This was her body; she could control it...no matter whose hands were busy ravishing it._

_His fingers traced her spine all the way down to her derriere where she felt his palms next. Swiftly, he scooped the petite witch off the floor. _

_"Put me dow..."__ Try as she might, the words weren't coming out right. _

_Instead, her legs came around his waist. As he placed her onto the bed, Damon quickly removed his shirt._

_He watched her entranced. Her dark hair was fanned around her head like a raven colored halo, eyes wide with expectation and obvious fear of what being with him so intimately would mean for the purity of her soul._

_She was angelic beneath him, though clad in his favorite shade._

_Resting his elbows on either side of her, he placed one searing kiss upon her swollen, tender lips. "Are you frightened?"_

_She neither spoke nor nodded, but the expression on her face told him everything. "There's no need to be, little witch. I'll take care of you."_

_He continued his assault on her lips. His kisses drugged her senses, as his lips moved down her neck to the hollow at her throat._

_Damon began tugging gently on the straps of her gown until finally two supple breasts revealed themselves. The Hershey Kiss-like buds were now erect and his for the taking. _

_He flicked his tongue lightly over one chocolate nub, before suckling deeply. Her body convulsed beneath his before her back arched involuntarily toward his. _

_"Ohhh...Damon," she moaned. _

_He lifted his head long enough to allow her a millisecond to breathe. She heard him growl low and found herself lost in his gaze.  
_

_She wanted him and he wanted her. Her green eyes were glazed over with passion and unadulterated lust as he whispered into her ear. "Are you ready?"_

_"Yes."_

_That was all he needed. She watched in both horror and rapture as he leaned back before hurling his body forward again._

_His fangs broke through the flesh of her neck. He sucked with an intensity she had never felt in her life. All she could say was "yes," as her eyes closed and her body began to tremble and ache._

_The sounds of their sex grew fainter. The smell of him and the weight of his body on top of hers both began to dissipate.  
_

When she was finally able to open her eyes, he was gone. Bonnie sat up swiftly in her bed and looked around frantically. She couldn't go on like this.

Pressing a hand against her sweat slicked forehead, she lay her head back against the fluffy pillow and tried to fall asleep. "This has to stop, Damon."

"I know," he whispered to himself. His breathing had become ragged and strained. The blue-eyed vampire gripped the tree branch tightly and allowed his gaze to linger on the sleeping witch, alone in her bedroom.

_Such delicious, vivid dreams...for a virgin._

Damon smiled to himself as a gust of wind swept through his midnight locks. The erotic moment etched into his mind, he had become so desperately ravenous for her. Sweet, red, mystical nectar.

Something really had begun to stir inside of him after that night in the woods.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! Thank you for being so patient as I updated. Unfortunately I had a few technical difficulties in getting this chapter up, but here it is in all its incredibly long glory. I really hope you enjoy it! The title of the chapter was inspired by the Coldplay song "Sparks." _

_Now before you dive in, I just want to say a massive thanks to the following readers who made me absolutely psyched to post again. You guys are incredible and your support means a lot to me. Thanks again! _

**_Raqual88, RockerChick08, cherry9021, Tiffany, dreamer24-7, DiorNicole, , Impress, ILoveRomances, FrenchGiirl, babyshan211, glasvegas, TriGemini, IfYouFindThis, saderia & fanficfan84 _**

**Something Supernatural**

**Chapter 5: Sparks  
**

It frightens me to think of him that way - even if it's only in my dreams.

Whether I can feel the weight of him above me, the sensation of him beneath me or the intense pleasure coursing through my body when he's inside of me. It all just seems _so real._

Needless to say, it was difficult to focus on what Grams was saying about my curfew for tonight after the dance. My mind was just too busy replaying the images of our lovemaking...I mean _sex._

"So you girls must be pretty excited," Tituba offered, taking a bite of her maple syrup drenched french toast.

"Hmmm?"

"About the dance," she replied, noting her granddaughter's spaced out expression.

"Oh," Bonnie began, as the reality of sitting at The Grill for a quick bite before school set in again. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

"Something on your mind?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow at the petite teen sitting before her.

The young witch sighed and took a sip of her piping hot coffee. _Just increasingly vivid sex dreams about Damon._

Tituba Bennett caught the tail end of her granddaughter's train of thought while sipping her orange pekoe tea. Instantly, she began coughing erratically. The witch began to pat her chest with her palm, hoping her next breath wouldn't be such a big struggle.

Of all the things she _didn't_ want to be privy to...

"Grams!" Bonnie shrieked, moving to sit beside her with a full glass of water. "Here! Drink up."

She did just that, downing every last drop of the clear fluid. Tituba could still feel the young girl gently rubbing circles on her back until her breathing returned to normal.

In the midst of panic, the two witches had garnered themselves a group of concerned onlookers. A cute young waiter with a nametag reading 'Denny' approached them.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?"

If there was one designation she could do without, it was most definitely _'Ma'am.'_ Of course, he meant it out of respect, but it always had a way of making a person feel _undesirably old._

"I'm quite alright, young man," she smiled as warmly as she could.

As soon as he left, Tituba turned her attention to her granddaughter who was now sitting across from her again. "So...back to your uh...reason for being distracted."

"Grams, are you sure you're alright?" Bonnie asked. "You were turning blue there for a second. I was so scared."

"Sweetheart, I'll be fine," she maintained in a gentle tone. "So tell me. What's been goin' on inside that head of yours?"

"I don't know," she began reluctantly, fiddling with her fork absentmindedly.

Tugging the utensil from her grip, Tituba leaned in. "Remember our talk last night?" Bonnie grasped her meaning and nodded. "No secrets."

"It's just these dreams, Grams," she admitted. "They've been getting so much more…_intense._"

_I bet._ "How so?"

She silently weighed the pros and cons of offering Grams all the gory details in her mind. Conveying _everything_ to her would be taking the honest route.

"They're just feel so..._real_," she replied, changing her mind at the last second. "The pain...the way my life just drains right out of me. I lose all control when I'm with Damon. That scares me."

Tituba eyed her sympathetically and reached out a hand in support. Bonnie happily took it.

"They're just dreams, honey. They end the second you wake up and reality takes over from there."

"It's pretty hard to be a fan of reality when mine is inexplicably tied to a cold blooded killer," she replied.

"Touche, little miss," Grams smirked at the sudden burst of feistiness. "Tell me something sweetie. What's your biggest fear - losing control _with_ Damon? Or _Damon, himself?_"

If she was completely honest with herself, neither concept was mutually exclusive in her world. Not being able to control herself around him meant giving into all that he stood for and all that she was against.

"You know sometimes we must come face to face with that which frightens us most in order to progress."

"Says Mystic Falls' former protest queen," Bonnie smirked. "Man, I would give _anything_ to see you in action back in the day."

Tituba beamed at the mere mention of her days as the town's resident sociopolitical trailblazer. "Yes, well that statement applies to _your_ situation too."

"Grams," she started, looking more serious now. "There's something else I've been needing to talk to you about."

Bonnie leaned forward and began speaking in hushed tones. "When you picked me up from the nurse's office yesterday, I said I had a migraine. The truth is-"

"You didn't," Tituba replied nonchalantly, slicing off another sliver of sweet toast.

"How did you know?" the teenage witch asked.

"I've got a _sixth sense_ about these things," she smiled knowingly.

Bonnie took another bite of her banana buttermilk pancakes and sighed. "I'm hearing voices, Grams."

"Voices?"

"_Other people's voices_ - but not before I get this _excruciating_ headache that makes me dizzy. Then I pass out, which is how I ended up on the bed in the nurse's office. Then _you_ found me there looking like-"

"Stop the train," Tituba commanded. It was pretty obvious that her granddaughter was panicking on the inside about everything that had transpired.

Then again, she could still remember what it was like transitioning, herself.

"What's happening to me, Grams?"

"_Stage one_, evidently." The older woman sipped more tea, this time slowly to prevent another repeat choking performance.

"_Stage one?_"

"_Telepathy_ is a gift the Bennett woman have been bestowed with," she began calmly. "The hard part is learning how to selectively tune into certain voices while drowning others out."

"And the headaches?"

"That's a sure fire sign of a blockage," she replied.

"What kind of blockage?"

"A _mental_ block, my dear. It seems your biggest fear is preventing you from being able to fully access your gifts and abilities."

"So basically you're telling me the only way I'm ever gonna stop having these headaches is to face Damon?"

"Only if _Damon_ is your biggest fear," Tituba smirked. "Like I said, sometimes we must come face to face with-"

"_That which frightens us most in order to progress._ I know," Bonnie returned. "You know, when I first told you about what happened in the woods, you told me to stay as far away from Damon as I could. Now you're all gung ho about me confronting him?"

"A: I had my reasons and B: Facing him is the only way," Tituba reiterated.

Bonnie glanced at her watch and quickly grabbed her bag. "I've gotta get going, Grams. Can't be late again for chemistry. Thanks for breakfast."

Turning to receive a quick peck on the cheek from her granddaughter, Tituba smiled and looked at the clock. She still had enough time to run a few much needed errands.

***

Bonnie raced through the hallway, nearly body checking Tyler Lockwood and leaping over the French foreign exchange student on her way to chemistry. She ground to a skidding halt on the freshly mopped floor of the East Wing hallway - and landed on her butt.

"Crap!" she yelped, as a pleasant looking young man reached out to help her up.

"Need a hand?" he smiled.

"Thanks," she replied.

"I'm Alby," he exclaimed.

"It's nice to meet you Alby," she said, observing the writing on his janitorial nametag: _A. Greenwood._ "Well I'm gonna be late for chemistry if I don't get going."

"Of course," he responded, gesturing for her to be on her way.

"Thanks again!" she called out as she ran.

Bonnie breathed a huge sigh of relief when she arrived at the lab. Every student who cared to show up was seated and still, there was no sign of Mr. Horowitz.

She took a seat next to Stefan, her usual lab partner and grabbed her supplies. Yet another sleep inducing period of memorizing more facets of the periodic table of elements - and her usual routine of accidentally setting things on fire.

"Phew," she whispered, pretending to swipe sweat from her forehead. "Guess I beat Horowitz here."

"Guess so," Stefan chuckled.

Other than his restrictive diet of blood and the fact that he lacked a pulse, Stefan fit in pretty well at Robert E. Lee. Not to mention, he was the school's resident eye candy galore - next to Matt Donovan, of course.

"Hey...you okay?" he asked, his voice becoming slightly more serious. "You know, after everything that happened last night..."

"Yeah," she replied uneasily. "Y-yeah. I'm good."

For an instant, Bonnie remembered what it felt like being pressed up against Damon's cold, hard chest as he saved her from the fury of the flames. He had scooped her up into his arms so swiftly and so gently; it was downright _un-Damon like._

Bonnie looked up again and scrunched her face in confusion. "Why is _Mr. Daimler_ here?" she asked Stefan.

Judging by the baffled expression on his face, he wasn't too sure either.

The middle-aged balding man now stood before the class. He seemed to be perspiring a great deal on his upper lip, a sign of frazzled nerves.

"Hello class," he began. "I uh, I realize you were probably all expecting to see Mr. Horowitz today, but I'm afraid I have some...some bad news for you."

Mr. Daimler took a large gulp before continuing. "It seems that last night...he was...involved in a horrific scene…in the woods near Old Fell's Church."

_Shit!_ Bonnie instantly tensed up. Stefan sensed it right away and felt himself grow nervous as well.

"What kind of incident?" a student hollered from the back of the lab.

The witch and the vampire braced themselves for the horrific news of charred remains being found or death by smoke inhalation. What they heard instead shocked them.

"The authorities are saying it was an animal attack."

Immediately Bonnie looked at Stefan. "Damon?" she whispered.

Great, she thought. _Now facing my fears just became a whole lot scarier._

"Let me do a little more digging," Stefan insisted.

After the lengths he had gone to in order to secure them a spot in Sherriff Forbes' good books, he wasn't so sure Damon would simply just blow it all for a quick kill in the forest. No. There had to be another explanation.

Whatever it was, Stefan was intent on finding out.

***

Bonnie Bennett sat in her Prius for ten minutes in the driveway of 61 Crescent Road. She was having trouble mustering the strength and courage to even knock on the door of the Salvatore boarding house, let alone speak to its naughtiest dweller.

It was her lunch period and somehow she had managed to convince herself that 45 minutes would be enough time to face her fears. She felt the sudden vibration of her cell phone against her thigh.

"Hello?"

"Bonnie, it's Stefan."

"Hey," she said with a nervous smile. _Please don't be home. Please don't be home right now._ "What's up?"

"I'm just down at the city morgue," he explained. "Elena and I found a way in. Well more like she _sweet talked the mortician._"

Bonnie grinned at the thought of her bestie strutting her stuff around a room filled with gurneys. How odd. Elena could probably seduce a dead man. Wait a second...

"Did you get a look at Horowitz?" she asked eagerly.

"Yup. He definitely _wasn't_ attacked by a vampire."

The young witch felt a wave of relief wash over her. "So what was it then?"

"I can't be entirely sure," Stefan admitted. "But the body wasn't fully drained. The wounds are different. It's almost like the murderer was just lashing out _erratically_. Kind of like..."

"Kind of like what?" Momentary silence.

"Like werewolves."

Bonnie suddenly felt a new fear brewing in the pit of her stomach. What if these were the creatures Grams, Stefan and Elena had been talking about last night? What if _the others_ were already in Mystic Falls waiting to feast on her flesh to stop The Prophecy?

"Stefan, do you think it's _them?_" she began. "The ones who are out to get me?"

"I don't know," he finally answered. "But we're not gonna let _anything_ happen to you."

With that, the two said their goodbyes and Bonnie turned to face the stately home she had been tentatively eyeing for what seemed like an eternity. She could feel his eyes on her.

It was like being in the dream again, the feeling of a heavy-lidded gaze hovering over her from afar. This time he was much closer.

Grabbing her chestnut hued purse, she slung it casually over her shoulder and began to approach the front door.

The petite witch wore a black knee-length peasant dress with spaghetti straps. She paired it with a bronze pashmina and strappy neutral flats. It was cinched in at the waist and showed off her svelte figure.

It also mildly emphasized a pair of assets she would have much rather been flaunting in Brad Pitt's handsome, perfectly asymmetrical face. Bonnie tugged the fabric upward self-consciously.

As she came closer to the door, it slowly creaked open before she could even knock. Taking a reluctant step forward, she entered _his_ domain.

Bonnie tread carefully on the hardwood floor and noticed there was no one around. It was eerily like her dream from the night before. The furniture, the paintings, the moldings - they all looked the same.

Did that mean absolutely _everything_ would be as well?

"Hello?" she called out. Nothing but the echo of her own voice.

She turned to the staircase and felt a rush of trepidation run right through her body. Struggling to keep her reluctance at bay, she slowly began to climb and felt her heartbeat quicken with each step.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Still no sound.

She contemplated turning back. _No. I can't do that. I need to face my greatest fear. It's the only way...like Grams said._

Bonnie sighed and continued her ascent. Tiny goosebumps had already begun to spring up on every patch of skin left exposed by the flimsy material of her dress.

There it was. A familiar arrangement of classical music slithered down the stairs from the second floor. It didn't sound exactly the same, but it was similar enough to send a chill racing down her spine.

The fact that it was coming from the first room on her right made it all the more unnerving.

_No. It was just a dream. Stand your ground, Bonnie._

Inch by inch, she crept closer to the door, which had been left slightly ajar. A sliver of what resembled candlelight beamed across the hallway. Bonnie pressed her fingers lightly against the wooden barrier, allowing it to creak open beneath her touch.

This time she didn't have to wonder where he was. Damon Salvatore lay unemotionally atop white silk sheets on a black iron framed bed. It stood perfectly in the centre of a room with walls painted blood red.

His arms were casually crossed behind his head as he stared carelessly at the elegent light fixture overhead.

"Hello, _little fire starter_." With a deliberately laggard motion, he swiveled his neck to face her.

"Damon," she replied uncomfortably, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

They continued to watch each other in silence. His gaze, fully penetrating. Hers, unnerved and curious.

"Shouldn't you be out torching the woods?" he mocked her with a sly grin.

His jest garnered him a grand eye roll from the witch. "_That_ was an accident," she replied adamantly.

The young witch continued to stand near the door, reluctant to get any closer to the resting vampire than she needed to. Besides, her purpose for this little visit to the boarding house was to face her fears and find out why Damon had made such a grand gesture in saving her last night.

"I see the _Stefan juice_ did you a world of good," he remarked, allowing his eyes to rake the full length of her young, supple body. "You seem to have a taste for V."

"_V?_" she questioned, arching an eyebrow inquisitively.

"That's _True Blood_ lingo for vamp blood," he smirked, still lying on the mattress.

"Didn't know you had time to watch TV," she began. "I always thought you were too busy murdering people in cold blood to be indulging in the pleasures of cable television."

"We should all make time to indulge in the..._finer_ things in life," he replied, flashing her a devil-may-care grin.

Bonnie rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Do you always have to speak in innuendos?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, little witch." Quirking an eyebrow suggestively in her direction, Damon silently congratulated himself on reproducing the look and feel of her dream almost to a tee.

He had memorized everything, right down to the classical music and unbuttoned black silk shirt her eyes were currently fixated on. "Like what you see?" he inquired smoothly.

"This _isn't_ a social call," Bonnie firmly replied.

"_You_ didn't answer the question," he pointed out. "So I'll take that as a shy, girlie, _'Yes Damon, I think you're **so hot!**'_"

In his bid to sound like an adolescent female, he ended up sounding more like a fusion of Caroline Forbes and Tikki Carter.

"More like _so obnoxious,_" Bonnie replied, emphasizing the final two words.

"You've got real spunk, you know that?" he smiled mischievously.

Finally crossing the threshold, Bonnie stood beside the iron framed bed with her arms crossed. "Look, as much as I enjoy verbal sparring with you, that's not why I came here."

"Alright," he replied, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, his back now facing her. "Why'd you come?"

"We need to talk, Damon."

"About?" he replied, pretending to be completely oblivious.

"For starters, why you saved me last night."

Rising from where he sat, the vampire casually strode toward the open window, sheathed by gold thread embroidered curtains. "You know, a simple_ thank you_ would be enough to suffice."

"Thank you," she offered. "Now back to my question. Why'd you save me, Damon?"

"I was there. You were there. Let's just leave it at that," he replied nonchalantly.

Bonnie sauntered toward the vampire until she stood mere inches from him. "No," she replied, placing her hands defiantly on her hips.

"No?" he questioned, feeling a tinge of amusement at the sight of her so riled up and determined.

He stared intently into her deep emerald eyes and for a moment, allowed his gaze to rest upon her luscious pink lips. The sun cast a delicious glow on her caramel skin. She really was quite beautiful for her age, he thought.

Damon could hear the sound of her heart practically banging against her rib cage. Being in such close proximity to him sure scared the hell out of her. On the outside though, she tried to project the air of a woman who was perfectly calm, cool and collected.

That was exactly why she acted against her better judgment and took another step closer to him. "No."

In light speed he was behind her. Bonnie turned to find herself nose to nose with him and felt the pressure of his body against hers. She moved backward, attempting to place a little distance between their competing forms.

"Do you have a death wish, little witch?" he hissed into her left ear.

_He's just trying to intimidate you. Don't let him win...even if he is a homicidal maniac._

Feeling a sudden burst of inspiration, Bonnie tilted her head forward and looked him square in the eyes. "No. But according to Emily's journal, someday I'll have _you._"

He began to advance on her again. Bonnie began to retreat until finally the warm skin on the back of her knees made contact with the cold iron frame of the bed. She was now trapped and shuddering ever so slightly.

Damon quirked an eyebrow at her and grinned. "Oh yes," he began, making quotation marks with his fingers. "'The Prophecy' of _Crabby _Belwain_._'"

"_Tabi_," Bonnie countered, still maintaining her composure. "You don't believe it, do you?"

"Do I strike you as a believer?"

"Well you never struck me as a _savior_ before, but last night you surprised us all."

"I'm just full of surprises," Damon smirked. He tilted his forehead and inhaled the sweet floral fragrance along the skin of her neck. Bonnie shuddered against him as his cool fingertips brushed against her pulse point in a feather light stroke.

_No. I'm in control. He will not be allowed to roam my body like some fifteenth century explorer in search of gold and spices. No. That was only a dream._

"You're full of _something,_" she retorted, squeezing past him.

She heard him growl low in his throat as she walked away toward the full-length mirror near his window. "I think you'll find that resistance is futile, fire starter."

"Why is that? Are you gonna try to _mind manipulate_ me or something?" she challenged. "I know _all_ about that. Stefan and Elena-"

"Are massive thorns in my side," he interrupted. "Yes, I agree."

"You tried to kill me," she yelped, feeling her anger and frustration finally reaching its boiling point.

"_Tried_ to kill you; not _succeeded_ in killing you," he reminded her. "And besides, your great, great, great, great - God, doesn't it ever get exhausting trying to remember just how _great_ Emily is?"

"Stop changing the subject," Bonnie demanded.

Damon strode toward her and stood close enough that she could feel wisps of his cool breath on her forehead as he spoke. "Look, if I wanted you dead, _you would be_. It's as simple as that. Stefan saved you because _I let him_."

"Stefan saved me because _unlike you_, there's good in him," she shot back.

Suddenly Bonnie felt his hands gripping her arms, bringing her closer. "I could snap Saint Stefan like a twig if I wanted to. The same goes for every other person in this town."

His eyes crystal blues bore into her eyes, making her shiver involuntarily. Her body was pressed so intimately together with his that for the first time since she first set foot in this house, she was truly scared.

Willing herself to go on, Bonnie took a deep breath. The sound of her pulse racing was like music to his ears and the rush of blood to her flushed cheeks was enticing enough to make his mouth water and his stomach yearn.

Damon could feel the veins beneath his eyes threaten to reveal themselves. His canines were dangerously close to the point of protrusion. He flinched before turning his head to the side.

Gathering every shred of restraint he could muster, the vampire forced his fangs to retreat. Damon glanced down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were shut, face scrunched in fear and expectation.

Trailing his frigid fingertips down the side of her face, he watched as her eyelids flew open. Her gaze was a deep emerald with flecks of chocolate and right now it was filled with such fear.

He couldn't understand why he had just stopped himself from indulging in perhaps one of the greatest pleasures known to vampires - the sweet, crimson life force of a witch. Inwardly the vampire scolded himself.

_You fucking pussy! She's a witch! Why the fuck do you care if she lives or dies?_

Consuming such a large quantity of her blood had conjured up a string of intense desires for her within him. It had also granted him access to her dreams and most intimate thoughts.

While most vampires can access words and phrases in the mind of a mortal, he was now able to see exactly what she envisioned as well. Every color, every shape, every movement. It all ran through his mind as it ran through hers.

"Look at me," he instructed her, softening his voice just a touch. "When I lunged at you, all I could see was Emily. She made a _promise_ to me. Unfortunately you Bennett women aren't exactly an honorable bunch."

Bonnie could feel the anger rising from the pit of her stomach at his remarks. "It's not like she didn't have her reasons, Damon. Unleashing _27 vampires_ into the free world isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"Sucks to be you," he quipped with a smirk. "You really _don't_ know what you're missing."

"Could we please try to stay on topic?"

"What was the topic again?" he questioned, arching a brow inquisitively, while pretending to be deep in thought.

"Fire can destroy a vampire. Yet you jumped into a ring of it just to save me. Why?"

So deeply immersed in the moment, neither of them seemed to notice Damon's hands braced on her arms. His eyes drifted from her mouth to her deliciously heaving breasts so clearly visible against the flimsy fabric. They then traveled along the expanse of caramel skin along her neck, lingering on the exact spot he anticipated her pulse point resided in.

He wasn't the only one so profoundly affected by their nearness. Bonnie silently chided herself for feeling so aroused by him. Every taut, muscular inch of him was intoxicating - and she hated herself and her body for the way it was reacting right now.

Damon flinched at her sudden memory of their bodies fused together in the heat of passion on the black iron framed bed that stood so close to them at this very moment. He had to push her away. There was someone else.

Katherine Pierce was the only woman who had ever loved him. How could he suddenly forget about her when he had dedicated 146 years to finding a way to release her from her dank, decrepit tomb?

No, The Prophecy was not real. This was a load of bullshit, engineered by the mystical mind of Tituba Bennett to keep her little grandwitch from the big bad wolf.

_Bennett women betray. Bennett women lie. Bennett women cannot be trusted!_

It repeated itself in his mind like the persistent, purposeful refrain of a song. Its purpose - drown out and dismiss any and all pleasant thoughts of Bonnie Bennett.

"I saved you_ for Katherine_," he declared in his coldest tone. "Everything I do is for _Katherine_. That bitch Emily, may have destroyed the crystal, but if there's another way to bring the woman I love back, I might need a witch. That's where _you_ come in."

"So I'm just a means to an end," she gathered, a hint of regret evident in her voice.

"A _mildly attractive_ means to an end," he threw in. "I mean, give yourself _some_ credit."

Damon watched as her shoulders slumped ever so slightly and felt something profound tug at his core. Was it sympathy? Remorse? Whatever it was, it had to be quashed immediately.

"Guess you were right about me," he continued. "There's only _one_ good Salvatore and he sure as hell _isn't_ standing in the room right now."

She looked up at him, her lips parted sensuously, eyes wide with fury and frustration. "Do you know what this is like for me?"

He couldn't bring himself to say a word. No charming, irreverent quip at the other person's expense. Nothing.

"I'm _17-years-old_, Damon. Do you know what it's like being told by the people you _love_ that you're destined to end up with a cold heartless _son-of-a-bitch_ for an eternity? No, of course you don't. _You_ don't love anyone else, but yourself and some undead ex who slept with your brother while she was sleeping with you! Yeah, that's _real love_, alright," she scoffed. "Add to that, the fate of the Supernatural world supposedly rests on our shoulders. But yeah, to Hell with the rest of us. We're all just _a means to an end_ in your pathetic ploy to resurrect a woman who treated you like dirt."

He stood perfectly still, astonished by the forceful delivery of her impromptu monologue - including the bit where she referenced is callous summation of her. The other part of him was stark raving mad. His blood was boiling in remembrance of her harsh words about his relationship with Katherine.

_What the hell did she know?_

"Are you finished?" he asked, clenching his jaw.

It took far more effort to restrain himself from tearing into her throat this time around. Her little "does of reality" had stung him far more than he was willing to let on.

Shoving her away, he allowed the witch her freedom. Then she paused at the doorway.

"I'm not done."

Keeping his back turned to her, Damon absorbed every last word.

"I don't believe in The Prophecy either." Momentary silence. "I mean, how could I? There is _no way in hell_ that I could _ever_ love someone as selfish and contemptuous as _you_."

He heard the pitter patter of her feet as she bolted from the room into the hallway, down the staircase and out the front door. Damon would never admit to anyone the distinct twitching sensation he felt inside of his chest when he was around her that day - or the unexpected disappointment he felt with her parting words.

_Was he really so undeserving of love?  
_

***

Tituba Bennett walked into the pastel painted jewelry shop in search of her glorified bestie. "Maya, you here?"

No reply. She got the strangest feeling then. Something supernatural was at play.

Whatever it was, the witch sensed there was activity behind a curtain of richly hued saris that led to the repair room. Her sixth sense was actively surveying the scene.

As she closed her eyes and listened for the sounds mere mortals could not hear, there was a strange bubbling and squelching. She peeled back the layers of green, yellow and blue drapes and tip toed to the other side.

"My? You here, hon?" Tituba held onto the amethyst jewel that hung from her bracelet.

It was her own talisman of sorts. She pressed lightly against the gem stone and took a deep breath in. Her eyes were drawn to a white closet door.

She turned the knob and stared down at the glossy hardwood floor inside. To anyone else, there would be nothing peculiar or distinct about this little nook. It would have looked like any other ordinary storage closet, but with one phrase it would be anything but.

"Agor y ffordd, rydych yn Hag hen!" the seasoned witch hissed.

She watched with bright eyes as the wooden floorboard was yanked away by a great force of suction. The storage shelves and their contents followed suit. There beneath her was the stairway to the fairy's study.

Their magic password was Welsh for "Open the way, you old Hag!" It certainly wasn't a typical, poetic command; then again, Maya and Tituba shared a rather offbeat sense of humor.

"Double, double toil and trouble," the merry woman remarked, as she heard the footsteps of her closest friend approach.

"Fire burn and cauldron bubble," finished Tituba, as she landed on her feet with a thud.

The floorboard of the closet immediately slid back into place, yanking the door shut with it. It was a clever little contraption Maya and Tituba had collaborated on.

Only a McCullough or Bennett woman could gain access to the fairy's below ground retreat - if they knew the password. It was a marvelous room with bookshelves along the walls and cream colored armchairs at each corner.

In the center of the room there was a blue sofa that sat atop a golden brown carpet. If you looked to your right, you would surely catch the veritable technicolor chemistry bonanza that sat atop a large desk.

Colorful fluids surged through transparent plastic tubes into various bottles. They bubbled, they steamed and they perfumed the room with sweetness and spice.

"What are we brewing today?" the witch questioned.

"Sleeping potions, love juice, the usual," Maya returned.

"_Love juice?_" Tituba raised an eyebrow before shaking her head.

"Oh don't you shake your head at me, _Tituba Bennett_. This stuff _really_ works. You'd know that if you actually tried some."

"Well thanks, but no thanks. Love and me - we've already enjoyed a long run together. It was perfect. No need for another round."

"Maurice was a lovely man," the fairy mused.

"He was, indeed." Tituba smiled in fond recollection of her late husband and Bonnie's grandfather. He was such a kind and gentle soul.

For a moment, both women found themselves basking in the warm, comforting embrace of Memory Lane.

"So what brings you to my lair?" Maya inquired, blending a blue liquid with a pink gel-like substance.

Tituba's features hardened. "He's back, My."

"Who?"

"Your brother," Tituba responded. "And he's up to _no damn good._"

"But I thought Rufus was in England. How do you know for sure?" the wide-eyed fairy replied.

"I went back to the woods this morning," she began. "I had to know what went wrong last night."

"You said not even _you_ could stop the flames, right?" she asked.

"Right."

"Someone else had to be working a counter spell," she offered. "That's the only logical explanation I can think of."

It was highly ironic, two Supernatural beings speaking of logic when their very existence was quite a feat on its own.

"You know," Maya continued. "My Aunt Maggie was a pro at fire spells. She taught me and Rufus..."

"Everything you know," Tituba finished, as she watched realization creep up on her friend. "This is what I found a few meters away from the flames."

Tituba reached out and handed the pale fairy a pressed brass coin with wings and the McCullough family crest on it. It was attached to a silver chain, a trinket Maya had crafted specifically for her baby brother.

"It can't be," she replied, placing her hand over her mouth in shock. "It's been 17 years since he went away."

"That's the part I find most peculiar," Tituba offered. "Why, after _17 years_, would he choose to return to Mystic Falls? And why would he be lurking in the woods on the _exact same night Bonnie nearly dies?_"

The two women exchanged knowing glances. Rufus McCullough had returned to Mystic Falls, still a card-carrying member of the pure blood league of fairies.

"_The Glan,_" Maya said in a hush tone. "But how do _they _know?"

"I don't know," the witch replied. "I suppose...it was only a matter of time before one of the pure blood leagues figured it out."

"We need to protect Bonnie," the fairy exclaimed, her eyes welling up with fear, frustration and hurt. "I'll brew a potion."

She turned back to her work station and instantly began to combine a purple liquid with golden flecks of dust and a thick syrup-like concoction. "She'll be at the dance tonight, right?"

Tituba nodded. "Then give her this to drink before she leaves. She must drink_ all of it._ It will protect her - for the night, at least. Until then, I'll see if I can find that horrid little brother of mine."

The guilt had become quite evident on Maya's round face. The tears were threatening to cascade over her cheeks and it broke the witch's heart. "This is _not_ your fault, sweetheart."

"Yes it is," she cried, now unable to contain the streams of pain. "I _knew_ there was evil in him. _I knew it_ and I didn't stop him!"

_Tituba could still remember that night out on the cliffs of Old Wickery Hills. Word had spread that a warlock was afoot. Three young girls had gone missing in Mystic Falls._

_The fact that they were each descendants of great wealth and notoriety wasn't nearly as intriguing as another tie that bound them together. It turned out that they were all witches._

_Their bodies had been found in a field not far from the Hills. The crime bore all the hallmarks of a pureblood killing. It was in the ritualistic way the girls had been murdered, the intricate carvings on their bodies and the symbol that had been left on the grass._

_Unfortunately the Mystic Falls Police Department had not been briefed on fairies nearly half as well as they had been on vampires. They regarded the robin's feather as just another facet of the landscape. They were wrong._

_It was a declaration that The Glan had been there and some day, they would return. Maya and Tituba knew very well the symbolism behind the seemingly harmless object._

_The Glan had acquired quite the following in Mystic Falls. They were out to protect the purity of their kind and maintain the distinctions between The Supernaturals - a cause similar to the one The Fiors covetted._

_Maya and Tituba had combined their strengths that night and asked the spirits of the dead girls to show them who had murdered them. They were able to recognize one object amidst the flames: a pressed brass coin with wings and the McCullough family crest on it dangling from a chain around a man's neck._

_It was then that they knew. The showdown was imminent._

_Rufus McCullough had been married for 10 years to the love of his life. She was vibrant, beautiful and a fairy. It was a passionate, all-consuming bond that he would go to the ends of the Earth to protect. In the end, that wasn't enough._

_Emmeline McCullough had been murdered by a witch who had never been held accountable for his crime. The utter devastation and emotional turmoil in his life bred a deep hatred of the witching world in Rufus._

_Maya confronted him on the cliff. She insisted upon going alone. Like most siblings do, they fought; but unlike the situation with most siblings, it was a battle of Supernatural proportions._

_It all came down to that one pivotal moment when she had him pinned against a tree by the neck. She made her greatest mistake staring into his eyes. Images of their childhood instantly flashed through her brain._

_The moment where she watched her mother with wide-eyed curiosity and adoration as she fed her baby brother a bottle of milk. The time where he scratched his four-year-old knees and she, a brave and rambunctious eight-year-old, had hugged him tightly to comfort him._

_She couldn't bring herself to thrust the silver blade through his heart. It would have killed her to do it._

_"Leave now!" she commanded, tears flowing freely from her green eyes. "Don't you ever come back here, Rufus!"_

_Maya watched her brother run off into the night. He looked back just once to take a final glance at the woman who had shown him mercy. It broke her heart, but in the meantime, she would do whatever she could to prevent The Glan from resurfacing in the town._

_Tituba scribed for his location soon after. He was already well on his way to Brighton, a seaside town in East Sussex, England. There was a large Supernatural contingent there - mostly fairies and vampires._

_For years he had seemed content to steer clear of Mystic Falls...until now._

***

Bonnie couldn't contain her laughter. The thought of her best friend getting caught smack dab in the middle of a make-out session with her life-challenged, hot beau was too much - especially since they were getting frisky in the janitor's closet.

"I can't believe DeWitt and the new janitor caught you two in the act!" she shrieked.

"Correction," Elena began, cheeks still clearly flushed. "We were _almost_ in the act."

"Whatever. Technicalities, _shmechnicalities,_" Bonnie giggled.

The two girls made their way to Bonnie's Prius amidst the throng of students scurrying off of school property. They were all in a mad rush to get themselves perfectly done up for the dance - Bonnie and Elena were no exception.

Tossing their bags into the back seat, they began the trip back to Elena's. The ride seemed to go by that much quicker today. After all, the air was rife with excitement and both girls were relishing in it.

"So," Bonnie began in a teasing tone. "You and _sugar lips_ color coordinating tonight?"

Unable to stifle a chuckle, Elena playfully smacked her on the shoulder. "No!" Momentary silence. "Yes."

"Ooooh, so the color of love will be green this evening," the witch replied lyrically referencing the strapless design her friend had selected.

"Or azure," the leggy brunette inserted. "Of course that all depends on whether or not you and Matt really _hit it off tonight_," she finished with a wink.

"Not. Likely," Bonnie replied with a grin. "We've known each other since we were kids. It'd be like dating my brother."

"If you say so," Elena exclaimed.

"I do," she maintained. "Besides, with Damon and The Prophecy on my mind all the time, it's hard enough to think about anything else."

"What does Grams say about the dreams?" Elena inquired, offering her best friend a sympathetic glance.

"She says they're some _psychosomatic manifestation_ of all the stress I've been through," the witch replied with a roll of her green eyes. "She thinks I need to give myself_ time to heal._"

"Well you _have_ been through a lot."

"But Elena, I've been dreaming about him for nearly _two weeks_ now," she pointed out. "Who dreams about having sex with a homicidal vampire _every night_ for that long?"

"I'm sorry, did you say you were _having sex_ with Damon in your dreams?" The brunette inquired with her eyes bulging out of their sockets in utter shock. "I thought you said he was trying to kill you."

"He does that too," Bonnie insisted, trying to maintain her concentration on the road.

"How? By _ravishing you to death_?"

Taking a deep breath, she fought the onslaught of steamy flashbacks. "No...not...exactly."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Elena responded, placing a hand over her mouth. "This is _Damon_ we're talking about. Remember? The guy who tried to kill you two weeks ago."

"And in a strange twist, the same guy who saved my life last night." The girls exchanged astonished looks at the mere remembrance of what had transpired in the woods.

He had swooped into the ring of fire like a blue-eyed bat out of hell and plucked Bonnie from danger. Damon rarely committed random acts of kindness and he certainly wasn't a renown life-saver. Needless to say, everyone was still dumbfounded by his uncharacteristic act.

Bonnie pulled into the Gilbert driveway and brought the engine to a halt. As the girls entered the house, the enticing aroma of bolognese sauce made their mouths water and their stomachs cry out in need of sustenance.

"Ah, Italy today." Elena smiled warmly. "Aunt Jena's been making dishes from this book, 'Culinary Tour of the World' for about a week now."

"Must be nice," Bonnie replied.

"So far we've been to China, India, France... oh and then there was that less than appetizing trip to Scotland."

"Haggis?" Bonnie wagered a guess.

"Thankfully no, but it may as well have been."

After saying a quick hello to Aunt Jena, the girls ran up to Elena's room to begin the all important primping process. Besides, Stefan and Matt would be dropping by in just a few hours.

They would head to the dance separately - Bonnie in her date's Chevy pick-up truck and Elena in Stefan's convertible. It looked a lot like Damon's; then again he'd never let anyone put their hands on his baby.

Instead of coming home afterward, Elena told Jena she'd be staying with Bonnie and her grandmother for the weekend. Of course, not one to deny her niece, she bought the lie - hook, line and sinker.

In reality, the leggy 17-year-old would be spending her free time with Stefan at the boarding house and on the road. There just wasn't a better way she could think to spend her weekend.

"So what do you think?" Bonnie nervously emerged from the walk-in closet.

Her one-shoulder azure dress embraced every sensual curve of her body, while highlighting the rich chocolate hue of her skin. Her hair had been swept into an elegant up-do and her shoes were bronze and strappy.

Elena was quite certain at this moment that Matt Donovan would need help lifting his jaw off the floor of her living room when Bonnie came down the stairs.

***

Meanwhile, another strapping male couldn't believe his luck. "_Two_ Bennett women on the _same _day? What are the chances?" Damon Salvatore smiled, ushering Tituba in with a devilish smirk.

"I'll pretend your voice _isn't_ dripping with sarcasm," Tituba retorted in usual top form.

A vision of her granddaughter confronting the fanged one entered her mystical mind. Bonnie had indeed taken her advice.

"And I'll go on pretending the prophecy isn't a whopping load of horsesh-"

"I'm afraid I don't have time for our usual back and forth," she interrupted, lifting a finger to silence him. "As much as I enjoy giving you a good verbal whipping and all."

"Oh, but I do love a good _tongue lashing._"

Tituba rolled her eyes and painfully remembered this was the man Bonnie was destined to spend an eternity with._ You're about as charming as a pimp working the Red Light District._

_You wound me, witch._

_You need to be at that dance tonight. _Tituba folded her arms across her chest and regarded the vampire with a sense of seriousness she hoped he would note.

Damon placed one hand over his heart and the other over his mouth, clearly mocking her. _Without a date? Me? Never!_

"Ever heard of _The Glan?_" she questioned sharply, feeling herself nearing the end of her tether.

"_The Glan?_ Sounds like a group of elves you might find dancing in the woods."

"Could you be serious for once in your after life?" she balked. "This is a matter of life and death!"

"Who's?" he lightly inquired.

"The young lady you _supposedly_ don't care about, yet saved last night," she explained.

"Let's not go reading too much into that now," he responded dryly. "I was there. So was she. That's all there is to it."

"Horseshit!" the witch declared. "And for your information, The Glan is the magical equivalent of the ultimate racists. They're fairies who hate the idea of procreation between different Supernaturals."

"Fairies?" he chuckled. "_Racist fairies?_ Are you kidding me? Sheesh, Tinker Bell's gonna be _pissed _about this."

Concentrating hard on an antique sculpture of a nude woman, Tituba sent the object flying across the living room into the wall. It shattered into tiny fragments.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, witch?" He ran to the decimated piece in lightspeed and began to survey the mess it had left. His eyes were becoming dark and shadowy, the veins beginning to go a deep, disturbing crimson. "You really _do_ have a death wish."

"Like I haven't heard that one before," she replied, unflinching. "Now that I have your attention, these _racist fairies_ are out to stop The Prophecy. They were also behind what happened last night in the woods."

"How can you be so sure about that?" Damon inquired, still not devouring every morsel.

"I found an object near the fire this morning. It belongs to one of their members. He...used to be a friend."

Damon couldn't help but laugh at the irony. "A friend of yours. So much for those sharp witchy instincts."

"_Former_ friend," she corrected him. "Anyway, I need you to keep an eye on Bonnie tonight. Just make sure she stays safe."

"Why don't you just ask _Saint Stefan_ to do it?" he asked. "Do-gooding is his _forte._"

"He's _not_ going to be _the father of my great grandchild,_" she replied, quirking an eyebrow suggestively at him.

He couldn't contain the slight smirk that spread across his lips. If this was really all a lie, Tituba Bennett had to be the finest actress he'd ever laid his blue eyes upon.

"Goodbye Damon." The vampire watched as she exited the boarding house.

Protect Bonnie. Love Bonnie. Procreate with Bonnie. Save the Supernatural World. This was _his_ destiny? _Right..._


	6. Chapter 6

**_Hey guys! Okay, so this chapter is so long and I took a while to edit a few things. I really hope you enjoy it. This chapter represents a real turning point in the story, so expect some big things ahead. Anyway, I also wanted to extend a massive thank you to all of the wonderful readers who have expressed their thoughts in the comments section. I love and appreciate your feedback more than you know. _**

**_Also, to those of you who have read the chapters, but haven't posted your comments, I appreciate that too. To be honest, I was prepared to be totally stoked so long as anyone even took a quick look at chapter 1, LOL. This is really awesome, you guys, so thank you! _**

**_Also, this week's Coldplay song is "For You." Now for a special feature to this story. When I originally wrote it, I embedded a video link to a song for a scene. I don't have the link in this story, but I've posted the song name, so when you get to that point in the story, look up the song title and band on YouTube, start playing it and then read the section that follows. It's supposed to create a certain vibe, if you know what I mean ;). Anyway, enjoy and as always, feel free to comment! _**

**Chapter 6: For You**

"Hey you two," beamed Aunt Jenna, as she poked her head into Elena's room. "A little birdie stopped by with a special delivery for the lovely Bonnie Bennett."

"Ooooooh," Elena giggled. "Maybe it's a little something from your date."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Jenna laughed. "But you can see for yourself. The delivery person's waiting downstairs."

Bonnie eagerly leaped to her feet, offering her best friend a smile full of warmth and giddiness. As she reached the lower steps, a petite woman came into view. Her eyes were filled were filled with kindness and radiated such love. At this very moment, they were also on the verge of shedding a waterfall of salty tears.

"You look exquisite," Tituba Bennett remarked emotionally, wrapping her arms around her granddaughter.

An feeling of immense pride and adoration washed right through her. She was the spitting image of her mother. A good woman. A just woman. An absolutely radiant woman with green eyes, a resplendent smile and shoulder-length curly locks.

Tituba's son had taken to her like a heat-seeking missile latches onto its target. In this case, his plan wasn't to obliterate. Quite the opposite, he had been dying to know the most beautiful girl in his graduating class at Robert E. Lee.

Their wedding day had been a bit of a spontaneous affair. Deciding they favored _each others company_ over lavish preparations, break-the-bank floral arrangements and having to hobnob with the Lockwoods - who always seem to be present at _every_ social function in town, minuscule or otherwise.

Besides, Mystic Falls was a small place. If you broke up with your boyfriend over the phone, in the privacy of your own room, it somehow became a matter of public record by the time you set foot outside - usually a span of five minutes was all it took.

Of course there were three individuals fully aware of their plans to elope. Tituba, for one. Nothing, not even the tiniest molecule could be concealed from her incomparably sharp mind. Besides, she had the The Gift like all Bennett women before her.

Then there was Thomas Gilbert, Grayson's best friend. They had known each other since the first grade.

Roisin Sulez and Elizabeth Forbes had been close even before then. Their parents were attached at the hips and therefore they had been practically since birth.

Once upon a time Grayson Bennett lived, loved and hoped like a free spirit. After all, love would catch him if he fell. Then the day came when his beautiful wife succombed to her courageous battle with breast cancer. Bonnie was just four.

It was just daddy and his little girl from there. Tituba winced momentarily at the memory. She had fought hard to bring her son back from the brink of all out depression.

"Really, you look _truly beautiful_," she reiterated sweetly.

"Thanks Grams," Bonnie blushed profusely in return. "You don't think it's too much, do you?"

"I do think I may need to have a conversation with Matt Donovan about limitations before you two leave," she laughed heartily. "But no. I think it's perfect."

Great, she thought sarcastically. _Just what I need. Grams scaring my date half-way to China before the dance has even begun. _

"Bonnie," the older witch began. "I have something for you." Passing her a black satin bag with a thin blue ribbon wrapped around it, Bonnie read the small note attached to it:

_Dearest Bonnie,_

_High heels and hairspray and hot boys, oh my! This can only mean one thing. It's the night of the dance and you'll need some reliable friends by your side. Now I know you've already got Elena and Caroline, but how 'bout you try these lovelies on for size?_

_Love Always,_

_Your Fairy Godmother  
_

Dipping her fingers back into the bag, she retrieved a cream colored velvet box. Instantly, her eyes began to gleam with joy as a tiny inscription in gold lettering became visible. "The Elizas!" she exclaimed.

"On loan for tonight," Tituba finished, as Bonnie wrapped her arms around her. "Your Auntie My wanted you to wear them. Said she saw you looking at them in the store the other day."

"They're beautiful," the little witch said, placing the dangling pearl drop earrings in their rightful place.

"They are," her grandmother added. "But there's one more thing."

Taking her hand and leading her to the sofa, Tituba began to speak in hush tones. "This," she began, retrieving a tiny bottle of purple fluid with specks of gold dust throughout.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's to keep you safe."

"You really believe in The Prophecy, don't you?" Bonnie began with a sigh. "How can you always be so sure of _everything?_"

"Because _my instincts_ are as sharp as _Damon Salvatore's tongue,_" she chuckled.

"_And teeth,_" Bonnie inserted.

"_And_ because I know you're destined for greatness," she added, pausing for a moment. "Now you need to drink this - _every last drop._ It'll keep you safe for the night."

"Safe for the night? Is something wrong, Grams?"

"No," she lied, feeling a tinge of guilt rise in her heart. So much for honesty being the best policy. Then again, Bonnie already had enough on her plate. She deserved at least one night of teenage rebellion. "I just want you to get out on that dance floor with your friends and have a good time. This is just...a little _extra reassurance_. That's all, baby."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Flashing her grandmother one last reluctant glance, Bonnie drank the sweet and spicy infusion and placed the empty bottle into the satin bag.

***

The foursome entered the gymnasium with their mouths slightly agape. It really did look like One Night In Heaven.

White cotton clouds floated above them, while cream colored streamers branched out from the center of the ceiling. The disco ball that dangled overhead had lights shaped like wings and carpeted the floor in a sea of angelic artistry.

Bonnie shifted her eyes from side to side, searching for any sign of the well-coiffed Caroline Forbes clad in pink chiffon and that 24/7 smile that instantly said "Yes, I'm on top of the world and don't you forget it!"

Her gaze didn't have to travel very far. She and Tyler were already half-way across the large room that had since been transformed from its usual athletic glory.

Of course, not a blond hair was out of place. Not a smear of lipstick or a smudge of eyeliner. She looked perfect, but how could anyone expect any less from Robert E. Lee's in house fashionista?

Tyler Lockwood was quite handsome naturally, but done up in a pressed black suit with a soft pink shirt - no doubt chosen by his date - he looked sublime. And like so many other self-assured jocks of his age, he was well aware of that fact.

Then again, she couldn't exactly exclude herself from the whole color coordination theme of the evening. She had "discreetly" mentioned to Matt about ten times already that her dress was "a certain shade of blue." Judging by the color of his button up shirt, he had taken the hint.

Elena and Stefan were the proverbial _perfect couple_ you could look back at in your high school yearbook and think, 'They must be married by now with about a zillion kids. I mean, look at him. Wouldn't you wanna have babies in your later life with a guy who's got a virtual 20-pack instead of the usual six?'

It was genuine, what they had. Anyone with eyes could see that. Even Damon.

"So," Caroline beamed, striking her best runway pose for her small party of onlookers. "Am I a ten or what?"

"More than a ten," Elena giggled, as she, Stefan, Bonnie and Matt all broke into staged applause for her benefit.

Ever the charmer, Tyler placed a gentle peck on Bonnie and Elena's hands. "Ladies, you both look absolutely stunning as well."

Couples swayed leisurely across the dance floor, bodies entwined while spotlights cast a delicate glow over each of them. It didn't take long for Stefan and Elena to find their place among the throngs of people. Caroline and Tyler followed suit, while Matt veered off in the direction of the snack table in search of punch for him and his date.

Of course the usual suspects stayed backed up against the "boys' wall" scoping out potential dates as the DJ spun a mish-mash of top 40 and indie records. Girls with immaculately done hair and perfectly applied make-up were lined up along the opposite wall. It was just the way of things.

Some people danced with their friends. Some danced with their dates. Others didn't really dance at all.

Bonnie casually strode through the ocean of congregating students. Every teen in this room was probably considering nothing more than just living in the moment. She, on the other hand, was contemplating her own mortality and the outrageous possibility of a Supernatural baby.

She knew so little about Damon Salvatore, yet now they were bound by a prophecy - conjured up by her own ancestor, no less. Supposedly. Grams believed. Stefan seemed to. She just couldn't fathom how being raised with Damon as a parent could be conducive to rearing the next great peacemaker rather than the next little hellion.

The witch sighed, suddenly exhausted by the train of perplexing thoughts that flowed through her brain. Why couldn't she shake him?

Bonnie found herself nearing the end of huddled bodies. She could still see Elena with her head leaned against Stefan's broad shoulders. His lips were pressed affectionately against her temple. _I want that. _

She lifted her gaze again and found the most unlikely character grinning deviously beneath a paper mache halo. Her breath hitched.

One song ended as another familiar tune began.

_*****Brightest Hour by The Submarines*****_

He lounged casually against the wall, clutching a plastic cup filled with punch - and no doubt a splash of Bourbon. Clad in a freshly pressed black suit against the gentle hues of Heaven, he watched her intently.

His eyes traveled languorously along the length of her body, every delicious curve hugged seductively by azure chiffon. The vampire bore a side swept smirk that radiated mischief and charm in one fell swoop.

Ice blue orbs continued to drink in every facet of her lovely features. With her dark hair swept so elegantly into place, he now had an appetizing view of her swan-like neck.

Bonnie felt naked. Standing in the midst of a crowded room, drowning in a gaze so enveloping that her feet couldn't move in the other direction like she had initially wanted them to. Now she just returned his intense stare, only hers was filled with trepidation at moving forward.

After the dose of reality she had dealt Damon Salvatore this afternoon, who's to say he wouldn't try to rip her throat out again? _No. He would've done it already. Besides, like Elena said. You're a powerful witch goddess. A regular Broom Hilda - minus the heinous nose wart. Let him stand there all on his lonesome. _

Then she caught sight of his shifting gaze. _Caroline!_ She was directly in his line of vision_. _

_No! He is not gonna ruin this night for her. _

The decision had been made. Bonnie sauntered purposefully in his direction. Immediately he sensed this and whipped around to meet her stare.

She stopped just inches from him. Tilting her head upward, she offered him her most confident gaze.

Even in heels, the little witch still had trouble fighting her vertically challenged stature. Regardless, her eyes were mesmerizing. If he were a lesser man, he might truly be affected by the way they searched his own.

"Wow," she began in disbelief. "You're the _last_ person I expected to see in Heaven."

Smirking at her sassy reply, the vampire teasingly wiggled his eyebrows. "I slipped the guard angel a twenty."

"That's all it took?" Bonnie shot back feisty as ever. "I figured with all the sins you've racked up, it would've taken at least a cool mill."

"Guess she liked my charm," he replied with playful wink.

"Bribing your way into Heaven. Why does that not surprise me?" The vampire chuckled in response and took a sip of his drink. "So...are you enjoying it at least?"

"Not really," he half lied. The truth was, he was bored out of his mind before she stumbled into his view. "It looks like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man threw up all over your gym."

Bonnie took a deep breath and tried to stifle her laughter. "I'm sure the decorating committee did the best they could."

"Funny," he snickered, observing the various ornaments that dangled from the ceiling and the sloppy painted banners. "Their best looks a lot like my cousin Vincenzo's best." Momentary pause. "He was _four_ at the time."

Smart ass. "Really Damon, why are you here? Won't you get bored of all the _peace and tranquility_ of Heaven?" she continued. "You always struck me as more of an anarchic soul."

"I think you'll find that my tastes are _much more refined,_" he remarked. "Besides, anarchy is for lunatics and people who just aren't intellectually inclined enough to hatch diabolical master plans."

"Speaking of which, whatever happened to _yours?_" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Rolling his eyes, he decided it was time for an abrupt change of subject. "So about that weather..."

"Alright, _I get it,_" she acknowledged.

It was strange, the muddled feelings of irritation and excitement swirling around inside of her. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage like tiny gunshots colliding violently and speedily with a target board.

Revolt should have been what she was feeling. It wasn't.

"Why are you here?" she repeated, hoping this time he would actually answer the question instead of evading it all together with his usual wit-sarcasm combo.

"Sheriff Forbes needed someone else to be a chaperon tonight," he offered.

He was actually being honest. Elizabeth Forbes really did need someone to supervise the hormonally charged adolescents of Mystic Falls for one night. Originally she had intended to ask the Mayor and his wife, but Damon had come quite eagerly to her, offering his services.

"You know, I don't think _Caroline's mom_ would take too kindly to the news that her _new best friend_ was using her only daughter as his personal blood bank," Bonnie spat.

Clenching his jaw, the vampire bridge the distance between them, sweeping Bonnie onto the dance floor with him.

"Chaperons _aren't_ supposed to dance with students," she remarked through gritted teeth, trying to pry herself loose from his death grip.

Leaning in so his lips were lightly brushing against her ear, Damon whispered coolly. "Well you're not just _any_ student, Bonnie. I'm not so sure the townspeople of Mystic Falls would take too kindly to the news that their children are going to school with _a witch._"

Eyes bulging angrily from their sockets, she leaned back and stared at him with such disdain. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," he beamed, arms wound securely, possessively around her waist.

"Let me go," she demanded, unflinching.

"Awww, what's the matter?" he grinned. "Two left feet?"

"No," she replied, pushing her palms against his chest for release. "Anyway, I already have a date and he's probably wondering where I am right now."

"You mean _Mutt?_" he offered with a sly smile.

"_Matt,_" she insisted. "And he's a _really great guy._"

"Oh I'm sure," he replied condescendingly. "I could use a _nice light snack_ later on tonight."

"Don't you dare," she coldly declared. "He's_ my friend_, not _your food._"

There was such loyalty in her heart. That much was evident in her concern for _Mutt_ and her commitment to hating him and supporting Saint Stefan and the little _"Scooby Gang"_ she hung out with.

It was perhaps one of the most sickeningly endearing qualities about Bonnie Bennett. His sapphire eyes were now resting on the pillow-like softness of her supple, gloss-slicked lips. They smelled like strawberries and cream. The scent titillated his senses - and so did the heat of their bodies flattened so intimately against one another.

Her cheeks were stained crimson, lithe arms around his neck in the exact same position he had shoved them into minutes before. Bonnie inhaled the spicy fragrance of his cologne and found herself suddenly hypnotized by his perfectly shaped mouth.

He licked his lips slowly, deliberately, knowing full well where he eyes had roamed to. Damon could tell she had stopped breathing momentarily.

_Stop it, Bonnie! You need to find Matt! Get away from him and find Matt! _

Finally, she exhaled. "You really shouldn't be here."

"No, I shouldn't," he agreed, hearing her confused, fuzzy array of thoughts. "But I am."

"Even when you could be out combing the streets for a hot young meal on two legs?" Bonnie questioned.

"There are plenty of _fine_ options here," he offered smoothly.

"No," she declared.

"Who knows _which_ lucky young lady will strike my fancy," he quipped with a wink. "After all, I am pretty unpredictable."

"And pretty insufferable," Bonnie whipped back at him.

Damon placed his hand over his chest. "You know, that's like, the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Oh really? Would you like me to say something even _nicer?_" she asked, challenging him with her gaze.

"Maybe after you finish toying around with _Mutt_ Donovan," he offered, nodding at the young man who was currently searching the dance floor for any sign of his date.

Bonnie turned and spotted the red head and immediately applied more pressure against Damon's chest. "Let me go, Damon."

"Are you afraid poor little _Mutt_ will be upset that we're dancing together?" he teased.

"_You're_ dancing. _I'm_ trying to escape," she clarified, even though she had been moving in unison with him for quite some time now.

Reluctantly, the vampire obliged the witch. She had her freedom and instantly began straightening out her azure dress.

Realizing Damon was still standing beside her, Bonnie eyed him furiously. "Go away!"

"Hmmm," he began, pretending to ponder his next move. "I think...not. I'd like to meet the famed _Mutt._"

"And I'd like _you_ to go to Hell in a handbag," she countered.

Chuckling aloud, the vampire batted his dark eyelashes at her. Matt Donovan was getting closer.

"There you are!" he beamed, hands clasping two cups of red punch. "For you, milady."

Damon scoffed inwardly at his attempt to sound refined.

"So?" the young man stared at them both inquisitively. "Anyone gonna do the introductions? Or are we just gonna stand around all night in awkward silence?"

Bonnie giggled nervously. "Of course. This is Damon."

"Nice to meet you, Damon. Haven't seen you around here before," Matt exclaimed.

"That's because he doesn't go here," Bonnie explained. "Damon is Stefan's brother. He's chaperoning the dance tonight."

"I see. Well don't worry, Damon. We'll try to be on our best behavior tonight, won't we Bon?" the football player finished with a wink in his date's direction.

The vampire watched with great irritation as the young man placed his palm firmly on the small of her back.

_Provare a tenere il sudicio manine a te stesso, puke poco._

"That's certainly a relief," Damon replied aloud.

As a boy, he had learned a great deal of Italian. Giuseppe Salvatore was adamant that both his boys be skilled conversationalists in it. It was the language of his father's country and therefore an ode to their family's rich heritage.

If he were here now, he would have snickered before smacking his eldest son for being such a smart ass. Loosely translated, he had just called Matt Donovan a "little puke" and insisted that he keep his "grubby little hands" to himself.

He watched as the bright-eyed young man escorted Bonnie onto the dance floor and placed his arms possessively around her waist. Each time the twosome rotated on the hardwood, Damon met Bonnie's gaze with a look that sent chills down her spine.

There was unrelenting passion in those blue eyes tonight.

***

"Are you sure they're back?" Dayna Lockwood asked.

"We can't be entirely certain," Elizabeth Forbes began, trying to maintain a hush voice. "But judging from the wounds we found on the teacher's body this morning, we just can't afford to take anymore chances."

"So what do we do?" the Mayor's wife chimed in.

"Perhaps we should consult the history books," Charles Lockwood offered, clutching a red leather journal in his hand. "This belonged to my great, great, great grandfather, Leonard Lockwood."

The Council had assembled in a dimly lit back room at the Mystic Falls Police Department. Not only were the attacks on human's growing more violent; there now appeared to be more than one culprit.

He started with one excerpt:

_Mystic Falls used to be overrun by supernatural entities. The fairies, werewolves, vampires and witches lived in such great numbers, it frightened the townspeople into committing one of the worst atrocities in the history of the state of Virginia - The Cleanse._

_First came the black lists. Anyone suspected of possessing supernatural gifts had their names added and their private lives pried into by the local governing officials._

_Then the disappearances began. That was the final straw for some Supernaturals who chose to lash out and commit brutal acts upon mortals in return. They saw it as their only remaining line of defense against a town that was hellbent on their destruction._

_One wrong came after the next. Then the Council made a decision that would change their lives forever. Mystic Falls needed to be cleansed of its demons, they said. So the townspeople went after the Supernaturals._

_By fire, by gunpowder or by stakes - their will would be done. _

"He wrote in this journal every night," Charles Lockwood told the small group of followers. "Here's an entry that dates back even further."

_October 30, 1863_

_This morning another body came in. Exactly the same as the first twenty. Unlike the ones completely drained of blood, this one looked like it had been ravaged by some devilish creature of the dark._

_The local hunters swear they've seen it. It's eyes go red in the night, they say._

_The monster stands the same height as a grown man, but its body is covered in fur like a bear's. I've never seen it myself, but with all of the mutilated remains we keep stumbling upon, I now believe it truly does exist._

_A local merchant says he knows the beast's Achilles' heel. He claims to have pierced the flesh of the creature with silver, wounding it gravely._

_He couldn't carry the body back to town himself, for it was too heavy. By the time we had returned to the woods, it was gone. Sadly, there is no way of knowing whether or not he was telling the truth._

_It is a time of great confusion and dread. We know not what is coming for us and shudder to think of what is already here._

_How can our families, our friends, our people not fear for their lives when such evil lurks in the dark? I pray an end comes soon and swift._

"We already know the vampires have returned to Mystic Falls," Mayor Lockwood began. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before the weres found their way back as well."

"So what do you propose we do?" Sheriff Forbes inquired. "Stage another 'Cleanse' when we're not even entirely sure who we're up against? Things didn't exactly end so smoothly the first time around."

"The situation may not be as extreme..._yet,_" he offered. "But in the meantime, I suggest you beef up the staff you've got on foot patrol. Maybe it's high time you thought of inserting a few plain clothes officers throughout town."

"But we don't have the resources for something like this," she insisted.

"I don't care what you have to do, Elizabeth. Find a way. Get your men and women into our schools, our offices...even our churches."

***

"Where's your girl?" Damon asked, sensing his brother's presence in close proximity.

"Powdering her nose," Stefan grinned. "You know, if you glare long enough at Matt Donovan, you might just be able to set him on fire."

The older vampire's lips curved into a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "Nope. That's _Bonnie's_ bag, not mine."

"What are you doing here, Damon?"

"Sheriff Forbes needed a chaperon and we all know how much that woman - _bless her heart _- loves me," he replied smugly, eyes still fixed on the little witch and her dance partner.

"You? A suitable chaperon?" Stefan chuckled, coming to stand beside his brother.

"Oh Stefan, ye of little faith. I _can_ behave myself for one evening," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Why is it that I'm having such a hard time trying to believe that?" the younger Salvatore threw back. "Could it be because you've _always_ got an ulterior motive?"

"Or could it be your _perpetual state of paranoia?_" Damon offered, brushing past his only sibling.

The blue eyed vampire paced back and forth along the side of the dance floor. He was utterly enthralled.

It was in the sensual motion of her hips, the enticing movement of her arms and the way she allowed her head to fall back in immense pleasure of giving into the rhythm. The rich azure hue made her skin glow a delicious golden brown.

Lust. Pure. Unadulterated. All-consuming. Lust. He had to make it stop.

Stefan watched as his brother stared intently at Bonnie. He hadn't seen Damon react so passionately to a woman in over 145 years. He could hear the violent thoughts rushing through his brain when it came to Matt Donovan.

At the core of those swirling statements was one substantial truth. He wanted Bonnie.

He desired to be the man with his arms wound firmly around her waist, whispering seductively into her ears. The younger Salvatore couldn't help but shake his head in amazement.

Swiftly, Damon bolted from the gym. _You can't keep running forever, Damon. Sooner or later fate will catch up to you._

Stefan chuckled inwardly at his brother's typical response. _Get bent!_

Running was exactly what he felt most compelled to do at this very moment. Damon found himself standing in the quad with his hands pressed against the brick exterior of Robert E. Lee, jaw clenched.

_Get a grip, Salvatore. You shouldn't be here. Katherine. That's who needs your help. _

Stars spread out across the sea of black and instantly, he was reminded of his last night as a mortal.

In his desperation to save Katherine from The Cleanse, he had paid a visit to Emily Bennett. He begged and pleaded with her to do whatever she could by harnessing the powers of the craft.

That was the first night he had seen the amber crystal. It was the key to resurrecting the woman he had spent the last century and a half dreaming about.

How could he even consider being with another after spending the whole of his after life entirely fixated on the image of the brown eyed privileged girl who had sashayed into his world and turned it inside out?

It was decided. He couldn't compromise his loyalty to Katherine. He made a promise to free her.

Damon took a deep breath, preparing to walk away. He had every intention of distancing himself from the small town high school and every one of its occupants, but a familiar hush voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Where are you going?"

"_Little witch,_" he began, his back still turned to her. The sweet floral fragrance of her wafted through the warm air. He inhaled deeply. "You wanted me to leave. I'm leaving."

"Not yet," she firmly replied, coming to stand before him.

There it was again. That heartbeat rattling inside her ribcage, tempting his hypersensitive eardrums. One short, delightful note after the next.

Damon smirked and turned to leave. "Wait!" she shouted, placing a warm hand on his forearm.

"Do you-"

"Have a death wish. Yeah, I know the routine," she saucily remarked. "I wanna know something."

"I already told you why I saved you," he exclaimed.

"That's not what I'm talking about," she corrected him, staring deeply into his eyes.

"Then what?" he inquired roughly.

The sound of her blood coursing through her veins made his mouth water and his hands yearn to touch. Temptation was mounting.

"Back there inside the gym, you were looking at me...in a way I've never been stared at before...in my life," she began. "Why are you _really_ here, Damon?"

"I already explained that to you," he returned, feeling the veins beneath his eyes twinge. "Either you get it or you don't."

He had to leave now before things got out of control. Before he lost control. The sight of her so young, innocent and delectable was more than enough stimulus for his senses.

The vampire leaned in closer. "Leave me alone, witch."

Damon turned again, but this time she raced in front of him. "Why is it that you can never give me a straight answer?"

She looked into his eyes with the determination and ferocity of a worldly woman twice her age. At first, he found it amusing, but as their dueling gazes persisted, he could feel himself becoming even more aroused by the very nearness of her.

He watched as she bit down on her lower lip in a manner that he found incredibly sensual. The glossy pink hue paled in comparison to the cherry red tint to her cheeks.

Thoughts of sweet red nectar lurking beneath the velvet softness of chocolate skin made his body throb in the best way he knew. He could feel a tingling in his gums at the very sight of her, so diminutive and vulnerable.

"You should go," he stated coldly.

"No," Bonnie replied adamantly, folding her arms over her chest.

Before she knew it, she was hauled up against his firm body, barely able to breathe, much less speak. The bitter chill of his fingertips as they grazed her cheek shocked her at first. Her skin had become so hot and moist amidst the throng of dancing teens.

The witch battered his chest with her fists. "Put me down!"

"Awww, you didn't say please," he mocked her with a Cheshire Cat-like grin.

Gritting her teeth, Bonnie emitted a soft plea. "Please."

Damon heard her breath hitch slightly, as he placed a finger under chin and tilted her head a touch. They were now face to face, breath to breath, ice blue orbs to emerald orbs.

He relished in the sight of her looking so curious, angelic and reticent all at once. It was more than just a little flattering that he seemed to rouse so many emotions in her.

Bonnie could feel his arms still wound possessively around her waist. His cold velvet lips descended upon hers. They collided in a burst of ecstasy as his mouth wreaked havoc on her senses.

One hand was placed firmly at the small of her back, while the other was tangled in her hair, as wavy tendrils came loose from the elegant up-do. Damon whispered against her neck. "You taste so good."

Bonnie licked her lips and the vampire heard her breath hitch. Dipping his head forward, he launched a slower, sweet, deliberate exploration of her lips.

What was she doing? Why did she have to feel like this whenever he was around?

The witch moaned against his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. She found herself relying on the stability of her tip toes to keep their bodies fused.

He felt her balance falter and instantly lifted her inches from the grass. Damon maintained his hold on her and with more restraint than he had ever shown in his existence, he brushed his lips against hers one last time.

She opened her eyes and watched him curiously. He stroked her cheek with his index finger.

"That was..." she began, breathing raggedly.

He fought the urge to kiss her again, but the sound of her voice so tremulous and soft, made something inside of him ache again.

What had gotten into him? Oh, but he wanted to. She wanted to.

"What are we doing?" she asked, still in shock.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

Bonnie reached up and shifted an unkempt strand of dark hair from his face. She stared into his sapphire eyes for a long while.

"This is...surreal," she finally blurted out. "I...hate you."

"I hate your family," he replied.

Transfixed by his lips again, her voice softened. "This will never work."

He rested his forehead against hers gently. "Never," he breathed.

Bonnie shuddered as a low growl suddenly came from behind the trees to their right. Damon could hear it too. In one swift move, he was standing defensively in front of her.

Bonnie stayed still and scanned the area for any trace of a wild animal...or worse. It leaped out from behind the oak trees at an awesomely inhuman pace. Before she knew it, she was pinned beneath the beast, the lone strap of her dress slightly torn.

In its sudden descent, Damon had been walloped across the face by the creature. His cheek bled momentarily as a series of claw marks began to dissipate. He rose with a fury she hadn't seen in him before.

Cracking his knuckles and bracing his legs, he charged at the beast, sending them both flying into the brick wall of the high school. Bonnie tried to stand, but felt her ankle give way. She tried with all her might to rise to her feet, no matter how much it pained her.

Off in the distance, she could hear the sounds of grumbles and roars - whose they were, she wasn't entirely certain. Damon could sound incredibly animalistic and predatory when he needed to.

Bonnie could now hear the sound of wailing, as the scent of raw flesh filled the Virginia air. She could hear the tearing of muscles and no doubt, limbs. Turning slightly, the most horrific sight was now before her.

Damon stood, blood spattered on his beautiful face and all over his body. He had ripped the werewolf to shreds and in so doing, saved her life.

The next sound she heard was a bone chilling scream from off in the distance. "Help me!"

Lifting her from the grass, the vampire carried the witch as fast as he could. They both knew that voice - it belonged to Elena.

By the time he rounded the corner of the building, all they could see was the brunette, trapped in the death grip of a tall, lithe man with violet eyes and a sinister smile. It only took seconds for them to disappear into a plume of white smoke.

Stefan lay on the ground, blood oozing from small round holes throughout his abdomen. "Elena. I couldn't..." his voice was weak and so was his body.

Damon lay Bonnie gently on the grass beside his brother and analyzed his wounds. Instructing Bonnie to turn away, he dug his fingers deep into the holes and one by one, began to extract the wooden bullets.

Within minutes, the wounds began to close, but his body remained in a delicate state. Stefan needed to feed - and soon.

"What happened?" Bonnie asked, still panicked and utterly frightened for her best friend.

"A warlock," Stefan answered, eyes stormy with rage and an underlying feeling of failure. "He said he came for the witch...then he took Elena."

Bonnie placed a hand over her mouth and immediately felt herself become overwhelmed by guilt. "Stefan, I'm so-"

"This is _not_ your fault, Bonnie," Damon reassured her.

Stefan's gaze was still fixed on the spot where she had disappeared with the sinister stranger. The witch followed his line of vision and caught a metallic glimmer.

"Damon," she called. "There's something on the grass. It looks like silver."

The vampire retrieved a tiny coin from the green and came to stand in between his brother and Bonnie. "Beware the Fior."


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! Thank you so much for all of the incredible comments and in depth analysis of this story. I appreciate the time that each one of you has taken to weigh in on this story from the bottom of my fan fic consuming/writing heart._

_Now another chapter begins and so does another element of this story. From here, I started compiling a soundtrack of sorts for "Something Supernatural." Here are my song picks for chapter 7:_

_Amber & Green by David Hopkins_

_Little Bit by Lykke Li_

_Just Say Yes by Snow Patrol_

_I have a list of people to thank, so here goes:_

_**Wateva, lilly, shiree022000, fanficfan84, Impress, etgoddess, ILoveRomances, doodlechick12, cherry9021, sandra, TriGemini, saderia, babyshan211, Lily, Raqual**_

_Get ready to take a little trip, lovlies. Destination: ??? Read on, board the plane and enjoy. Also, to any readers who happen to live in the region I am sending our Scooby Gang, your history is rich, intriguing and has been a source of great inspiration. ;) I don't have a beta and I have been using Google Translator for a lot of the translations you see. Apologies in advance if I happen to make a teeny error. _

_Alright, shutting up now. Have fun and as always, let me know what you think! _

**Chapter 7: To The Skies**

It was midnight and the fab four now stood at three. Two handsome vampires and a petite witch breezed past traffic and pedestrians in a blue retro convertible.

They were en route to the home of Tituba Bennett, the one person who could probably shed some light on The Fior. It was the only way they could bring Elena Gilbert back home to Mystic Falls.

Stefan Salvatore sat anxiously in the backseat, while his older brother maintained a solid grip on the steering wheel. For the most part, Damon kept his eyes on the road, save for the few discreet glances he directed at the maiden beside him.

Bonnie could still feel the discomfort in her ankle. She was sure she had sprained it. Her eyes were still red and highly irritated from the tears she had been silently shedding in the passenger seat.

Guilt had set in completely. It was all her fault that Elena had been taken. Whoever he was, that violet-eyed stranger had been seeking out the witch. Yet in the most dramatic twist she could have ever imagined, he had kidnapped her best friend.

Shifting her body into a fetal position, Bonnie allowed her hurt ankle to dangle from the seat. She could feel his eyes on her right now.

In the midst of all the madness, there hadn't been a moment to recollect every delicious facet of their kiss in the quad...until now.

His hands around her waist. Their lips pressed so intimately against one another. The way his raven hair felt beneath her fingertips.

That cool breath against her mouth.

She looked up at him from beneath a set of dark lashes and saw him deep in concentration. _Whatever road they were on now, they were all on it together._

Damon pulled up in front of Tituba's house and brought the vehicle to a halt. He leaped out of the car and was instantly beside Bonnie, scooping her up out of her seat and into his arms.

"You really don't have to carry me," she began softly.

"I know," he replied, moving with her toward the door.

Stefan had already bolted from the car toward the indigo hued wooden barrier. He slammed his fist repeatedly against it.

Damon had already found his way onto the front porch, having moved with his own brand of supernatural quickness and grace. Bonnie's warm body was pressed against his chest as he tuned into his brother's frantic thoughts.

_I have to get her back, I have to get her back, I have to get her back. Hang on Elena! I love you so much. _

Moments later, a groggy, massively irritated Tituba Bennett appeared at the door. Her expression changed completely as soon as she noticed her granddaughter in the arms of the older vampire. "Bring her in."

"Right," Damon scoffed. "Easier said than done, Tituba."

She had two choices. Get Stefan to carry Bonnie inside or allow his brother in her house. Then again, he would one day be the father of her great grandchild. And then there was the almighty Prophecy.

Rolling her eyes, the witch grudgingly invited him in. "Put her on the sofa."

"Really, I'm okay, Grams." Bonnie lay on the beige piece of furniture, while her grandmother was immediately drawn to her ankle.

"You sprained it?" she inquired.

"I think so," she replied. "Damon and me - we were attacked by a werewolf in the quad."

"I thought your dance was in the gymnasium," Tituba offered.

Bonnie felt her face grow warm, as her brain hit the replay button on the mini movie of she and Damon locked in an embrace. "It was."

Her grandmother's gaze swung from her to the blue-eyed vampire who was standing beside her. "I don't get it," the older witch sighed.

"We were...talking," Bonnie began to explain, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"It's not that," Tituba exclaimed with a slight smirk. "I gave you a protection serum to drink earlier on tonight. Maya brewed it herself. There shouldn't even be a scratch on you."

The young woman's features contorted in confusion. "Whoa, what does Auntie My have to do with this? She brews potions?" She observed the guilty look on her grandmother's face. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Let me make a quick phone call and when I get back, I'll explain." Tituba was about to leave the room when she heard Stefan's voice cry out.

"The Fior - they have Elena."

She stopped in her tracks and sighed distressingly. Turning on her heels, she approached Stefan and offered him a lingering look of sympathy and condolence. "How do you know it was them?"

The younger vampire retrieved a silver coin from his right pocket and placed it in the waiting palm of the witch. He watched as she analyzed the piece, taking in every etched in detail. She closed her eyes and made a fist with the object still inside.

Damon, Bonnie and Stefan watched as her eyebrows twitched, rose and fell. When her eyelids finally flew open, she watched the eternally teenaged man with a look of regret.

"She's no longer in Mystic Falls," Tituba began. "We'll have to scribe for her."

Leaving them alone for a moment, the witch went to her study and selected a map. She laid it out on the coffee table when she returned and began to explain.

"I'll need an object that belongs to Elena."

Stefan reached into his pocket and gave her a gem encrusted hairpin. "She wore it tonight. It must've slipped off in the struggle."

"This will do," Tituba replied.

She then reached for a bracelet she had brought back with her. An beautiful amethyst crystal was attached to it. Dangling it over the map, she closed her eyes and spoke an incantation: "Ó bandia Elora, treoir dom. Dom Glac leis an cail *n."

Stefan and Damon knew immediately what she had just asked for. Tituba had reached out to the Witch Goddess Elora for guidance to help find Elena.

They waited for seconds in silence until finally the crystal began to move. It guided the witches hand from left to right, down then up.

_Ireland._

***

Mind compulsion was an art form Damon Salvatore had mastered well over a century ago. Just ask his many blessed acquaintances throughout the years. Oh that's right, they wouldn't have remembered a thing.

Bonnie, Damon and Stefan were now seated side by side in first class on an Air Canada flight en route to Dublin. It was the only international airline flying out of Richmond that morning.

Thanks to his powers of persuasion, the elder vampire had managed to convince a trio of businessmen that their company's annual shareholder meeting wasn't really where they needed to be. Upon his insistence, they opted for a nice light lunch at T.G.I. Friday's and an afternoon of playing hookie instead. Poor suckers.

The petite red haired flight attendant was a shameless flirt, Bonnie thought, nestled between the Salvatore brothers. 'Becky,' as it said on her name tag, had given Damon enough refills of champagne to render a mortal man drunk - and the plane hadn't even left the runway yet.

Not that he discouraged the rosy cheeked young woman's enthusiasm and giggly demeanor. If anything, his side swept smirks and arsenal of jokes kept her annoying sing-song laughter floating through the air.

Bonnie felt a tiny monster creeping up on her. It was green, slightly irritated and incredibly tempted to toss 'Becky' out of the nearest emergency exit.

The young witch mentally talked herself out of that plan. Just one kiss and already he was beginning to rub off on her. For the sake of her sanity, Bonnie decided to look away.

She began to fiddle with the jewel her grandmother had given her before leaving for their journey. It was a red stone in a bronze setting, similar to the one Emily had worn.

Grams said it would help protect her. Hopefully it would be more effective than the serum she had consumed before the dance.

Stefan sat to her right, a handsome bundle of nerves. Lines of concern were etched deeply into his eternally 17-year-old forehead.

His eyes were an intense blend of greens and browns. At the moment, they were staring straight ahead. He was mentally willing himself to stay strong for Elena amidst the current turmoil they had found themselves in.

He felt like he was stuck in a bad dream, the ones you can never wake up from no matter how hard you try. The only woman he had ever honestly loved had been torn from his arms and was currently God knows where.

The warlock had appeared from out of nowhere and lassoed Elena from his embrace with some invisible magnetic force. No matter how desperately he tried to maintain his hold on her, the sinister stranger only grew stronger, more fierce.

She shouted. "Don't let go of me, Stefan!" He promised he wouldn't.

Then the shots rang out and by the time he looked down, his chest and abdomen were covered in a thick coating of his own blood. It seeped from every small hole and he felt as though his entire body were on fire, burned by the wooden rounds now encased by his immortal flesh.

By far, the most painful memory was the blood curdling scream that came from her lips before disappearing into a plume of smoke. "Help me!"

Stefan shut his eyes tightly and tried to focus on a vision of her smiling face. It was the only thing giving him the strength and ammunition he needed to bring her home safely and to exact his sweet revenge upon The Fior.

His mind drifted back to their conversation with Tituba. According to the witch, The Fior was a group of pure blood warlocks descended from the great witching families of the Emerald Isle.

Their mandate: Maintain the purity sanctity of their kind. Therefore The Prophecy was in direct violation of what they were sworn to protect.

They were among the most powerful witching clans the world over. Somewhere in Ireland, The Chosen Three dwell in mist and darkness.

Each was regarded as a 'Lord.' If ever one of the three was unable to continue his reign, they would consult the Intuitive Waters inside the stone cauldron. It would always name a boy of 19 with the exact same number of letters in his first and last names combined.

These were the chosen few. Destroying them would involve several truly extraordinary measures. Stefan was fully prepared to do whatever it took to protect Elena from their wrath.

Tituba had mentioned that each of The Three carried his own sacred silver dagger. It was an object used in rituals, blood spells and the only blade by which they could perish. Getting a hold of them would be the biggest challenge of all.

Their lair was guarded by a supernatural forcefield, he remembered. That's what had made scribing for Elena's exact whereabouts so difficult. A thorough investigation would have to take place if they were going to figure out where The Fior lived.

Stefan sighed faintly and looked down to his left. Bonnie stared up at him with a look of mild fear, great sympathy and extreme guilt. He hated seeing her like this.

After all, it wasn't her decision. She had no say in being thrust into some phenomenal prophecy. The seeds of her fate had been sewn by two desperate women and one powerful spell over 145 years ago.

He offered the witch a look of reassurance. "We'll find her," he whispered gently.

She smiled sweetly at him and nodded. "We will."

The night had been filled with so much upheaval and collossal revelations. For one thing, Bonnie still couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that sweet, old Auntie My was actually a fairy.

What ever happened to little pixie-like creatures dressed in green, wielding wands and sprinkling magic dust? So much for the Disney interpretation of the supernatural underworld.

By now, 'Becky' and her rosy cheeks had gone back to gossiping with the other flight attendents. No doubt the "uber cute guy in first class who could pass for a young Rob Lowe" was the hot topic.

The seatbelt light came on and within half an hour, the aircraft ascended into the clouds.

They had now been in the air for the past two hours and Bonnie was sound asleep. Their seats had been readjusted since and she now lay beneath the warmth of a thin blanket.

Stefan's eyes were shut as well, but Damon couldn't be bothered with rest. He didn't really need it. Being undead meant all nighters and crazy party hours would never take their toll.

He lay with his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The sound of mortal heartbeats surrounded him and lulled him into a state of sublime pleasure.

Damon had always been fascinated by the fist-sized organ. Of course, some people believed it housed feelings and emotions. _'Stupid people,'_ as he so ineloquently referred to them.

They just couldn't understand the feelings of lust and hunger that could be ignited by the sounds of sweet red nectar pulsating through each part of the human body. Right now he was basking in the sound of the little witch's heart.

Her head was tilted slightly in his direction, offering him the perfect view of her angelic face. He drank in every delicate feature before settling on her delectable, full pout.

He could still taste the rich berry infusion of her lip gloss. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the warmth of her bare skin in such stark contrast to his own chilly touch.

Clutching the top of the blue blanket, he tugged gently until it reached her chin. She looked warm and deep in slumberous bliss.

There it was again; the familiar sensation burning in the pit of his stomach, rising higher and higher. Passion.

Unbeknown to him, his younger brother had opened his eyes several minutes ago. Stefan observed him carefully in wonderment. Had he just witnessed Damon committing an act of kindness and caring?

_Ahem._ Stefan's mock throat clearing immediately caught his brother off-guard.

Damon looked up defensively. _Can I help you with something?_

_No._ Momentary silence. _I suppose it's safe to say you two have been bonding._

Rolling his eyes, Damon smirked. _Hardly...unless of course what you mean by "bonding" is me better acquainting myself with my meal. Bonnie - she's what's for dinner._

_Which would explain why you've already saved her life twice and healed her sprained ankle with your blood? Oh and let's not forget how much you seem to care about her staying warm._

The older vampire watched his brother with a mix of annoyance and amusement. _She's a pitiable mortal. That's all._

_Right._ Stefan paused before flashing him an 'a-ha!' expression. _So what exactly were you two doing before the werewolf attack?_

Time to lie like a rug. _Nothing._ Damon concentrated all of his energy on shielding his thoughts.

_You can shield all you want to, big brother. There's just one problem with that._

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Damon watched him curiously. _Which is?_

The younger Salvatore flashed him a knowing grin. _Bonnie hasn't learned how to shield yet. I already heard what popped into her head when Tituba asked about you two in the quad last night._

It took a great deal of restraint for the blue-eyed vampire not to slap the smile off his brother's face. _It was a one time deal._

Stefan chuckled lightly. _And the Earth is flat._

Damon scowled. _Shut up._

***

_Bonnie couldn't help the sudden wave of forlornness that overcame her. There she stood, alone amidst the ruins of an old grey cathedral. She could see rows of arches overhead and the remains of an entrance way._

_The air was still. Nothing and no one lingered here._

_To her left there were fields of green and sprawling woods. To her right there was a brick wall with a sliver of space just wide enough to move through._

_From where she stood, building tops and a church steeple were all that remained visible. Bonnie nervously approached the barrier and stared into the tiny space._

_Curiosity killed the cat, not the witch, right?_

_There beyond the wall was an empty road that ran through the centre of a lonely town. With a tinge of reluctance and an overwhelming desire to know more, Bonnie stepped over the threshold and onto a patch of grass._

_It was almost as though she had gotten straight off the plane and landed in this strange and unfamiliar place. She wore the same dark brown corduroy mini with the same purple cowl neck sweater and the chocolate hued riding boots she had zipped up before the journey to the airport._

_The only question she had was where on Earth were Stefan and Damon? Had they found Elena? Had they already gone home to Mystic Falls without her?_

_For that matter, where the heck had the rest of the world run off too? There wasn't even a single car parked along the sidewalk. If her witchy senses were right, something magical was at play here._

_Bonnie walked along the pavement until she glimpsed a sign off in the distance: Ken----. The rest of the letters were a complete blur._

_There were colourful buildings on either side of her. Orange, blue, cream and red. They continued in one vibrant stream of architecture._

_Her eyes were drawn to an emerald sign with gold lettering on it: Murphy's Pub._

_Bonnie pressed her face against the stained glass. The lights were all off, not a customer or bartender in sight._

_A sudden fog began to sweep through the town. Above her the sky had begun to take on an angry hue. She continued to stare as the clouds came together and a great breeze began to blow._

_By the time she was looking forward again, a dark form confronted her. He was shrouded in a hooded robe. Two identical forms emerged from behind him._

_Bonnie felt her heart begin to race. She blinked rapidly, hoping it was just an illusion. Much to her dismay, it was not._

_The witch turned to run in the opposite direction, but there they were again. This time the figure in the centre lifted an arm and pointed one pale, accusing finger in her direction._

_"The end is nigh!" it hissed maniacally._

_Both strangers on either side of him began to chant vigorously in a language she couldn't understand._

_"Caithfidh an cailleach feasa bás. Caithfidh an cailleach feasa bás. Caithfidh an cailleach feasa bás..."_

_They began to advance slowly toward her. Bonnie clutched her necklace tightly and began to shout frantically the only spell she could remember at that point._

_"Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc!_

_She shut her eyes as tightly as she could and poured every ounce of power and passion into the incantation. By the time she opened them again, they were gone._

"Bonnie." Damon had his hands on her shoulders, shaking her back to reality.

"Damon?" she replied softly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Did I just-"

"Scream an incantation in Gaelic? Yup," he replied, flashing her a weary expression.

She felt the brush of his chilly fingertips as they adjusted a lock of her hair behind her ear. It made her shudder slightly. Bonnie stared into his ice blue eyes and found herself feeling strangely comforted...and safe.

Stefan's body was turned toward her. His brows were furrowed and his forehead was...well, brooding. "Creatures of the night, depart from my sight. That's what you were shouting."

"I-I was trying to make them go away," she stammered.

"Who?" Damon inquired.

"There were three of them. Men in hooded robes," she explained.

"The Lords of The Fior," Stefan exclaimed.

***

Dublin had to be the single most picturesque city Bonnie had ever set foot in. The buildings were closely situated to one another and the atmosphere was just rife with the most remarkable energy.

She and the Salvatore brothers were on a mission, but first they needed to find a place to stay for the night. The O'Riordan Inn seemed like a cozy enough little find.

As they approached the front desk, a flamboyantly attired man in his late twenties looked up from the novel he was clutching. "Hello there. How can I help you?"

"We were hoping you might have two rooms available," Damon exclaimed.

"_Two?" _the witch asked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. The blond young man observed them curiously.

The blue-eyed vampire tipped his head to the side and winked. "Yes pookie._ Two."_

_Pookie? _Bonnie suddenly felt like she had just entered the twilight zone. She turned to face Stefan, hoping he might speak up on her behalf.

"Uh yes. _Two_ rooms will be fine," the younger vampire chimed in.

The trio were given their keys and hopped the lone elevator to the third floor. By the time they arrived, Bonnie brought her carry-on to a halt and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Why do I need a roommate?"

"Because we promised your grandmother we'd bring you home safe and sound," Stefan offered.

He hoped the mere mention of Tituba would convince Bonnie that rooming with his older brother wasn't such a bad idea. The reticent expression on her face told him it wasn't working.

"If I promise to stay on my best behaviour like a good little boyscout, will it make you feel any better?" Damon smirked mischievously.

"Are you even _capable of that?" _she shot back.

"You wound me, little witch." He placed his hand over his chest and feigned innocence.

"Bonnie," Stefan continued. "We're in Ireland now. You're on The Fior's home territory. Leaving you alone in the middle of the night would be stupid and reckless."

"Kind of like your decision to come on this little trip in the first place," Damon inserted.

"I came here for _Elena!" _she fired back. "There was _no way _I was gonna let you two get on that plane without me."

"Guys, this _isn't_ the time to be arguing," Stefan reminded them. "Let's just get changed, head down for dinner and try to work out a plan."

Of course for one Salvatore brother, supper was a sure bet in the woods just beyond town. Thumper and his other rabbit friends proved to be the perfect sustenance.

Damon waited until his brother was done dining, so Bonnie wouldn't be alone, in order to scower the streets for his own late night delicacy. Her name was Rose. Poor girl didn't have a clue what she was getting herself into when she looked into those hypnotic blue eyes.

The three then gathered at Mahoney's, a quaint restaurant specializing in traditional Irish fare. Bonnie was eagerly digging into a hearty stew, accompanied by soda bread and juice.

Stefan clutched a small glass of brandy and Damon opted for a shot of Bourbon. They both donned their trademark black leather jackets and smouldering good looks.

The little witch opted for a laid back ensemble that included dark washed skinny jeans, a cream coloured camisole and blue wrap sweater. It wasn't nearly as warm here as it was back in Mystic Falls, so she was grateful she had remembered to toss a light brown jacket into her luggage.

"Ken-_something_," Stefan began, referencing the sign from Bonnie's dream. "You said there were four missing letters behind that, right?"

"From what I could tell," she answered, taking a sip of her apple juice.

"And _Murphy's_ - that was the name of the pub you saw?" he continued. Bonnie nodded her confirmation.

"Well that doesn't really help much, now does it?" Damon chimed in. "In case you haven't noticed yet, Murphys aren't exactly uncommon around here. We passed by a _Murphy's _Tavern, a _Murphy's _Grill and even a _Murphy's _Hunting Lodge on our way here."

"There was a church too," Bonnie recalled. "And a wall separating the town from some old ruins. It looked like the remains of a cathedral with great big arches."

_Twirling her spoon absentmindedly in the stew, Bonnie began to feel a searing pain at her temples. Not again, she thought dismally. Lurching forward, she narrowly missed the bowl of food in front of her._

_A stone cottage with a dark thatched roof appeared. The two story home was surrounded by trees and hills. Then in mere seconds, everything blurred._

_Her mind went blank. Then came the hiss. "Draíocht saol anseo."_

Bonnie whipped her head back and opened her eyes again. Damon was beside her with both of his hands pressed gently against the sides of her face.

"You okay?" he inquired, with a genuine concern that astonished her.

"Draíocht saol anseo," she repeated in a whisper.

She didn't need to communicate loudly in order to have the Salvatore brothers hear. Their hypersensitive ears picked up on every pin drop or hush chatter.

"Magic lives here," Damon translated.

"Where? Where does it live?" Stefan began. "Did you see something?"

"A house," she recalled. "It was big and made of stone. The roof was dark. It looked like it was made out of straw."

"Thatching," the older vampire explained. "Really old school way to build a roof."

"Did you see anything else?" Stefan asked.

"Just trees...and hills," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "My mind went pitch black after that...and then that voice popped into my head. It sounded like...a woman, only really distorted."

"Do you think they have Elena?" he continued.

"I don't know," she answered.

After supper, they went back to the Inn and both of their respective rooms. Damon was busy assembling a bed for himself on the brown fabric armchair in the corner of the room while Bonnie finished changing into her pajamas in the bathroom.

By the time she emerged, she had a white terry cloth robe tightly belted at the waist. The truth was, being in such close proximity to the vampire made her nervous, scared, excited and lustful all at once.

Wanting him one minute and wanting to hate him the next was exhausting. She certainly hadn't forgotten his attempt on her life weeks prior, but there were times when her attraction to him became so great, she had to mentally remind herself of the pain she felt when his teeth sank into her flesh.

Bonnie lifted the sheets and began to fluff her pillows. She could feel Damon watching her from beneath a fan of thick, dark lashes. Reluctantly, she began to loosen the knot she had tied and allowed the garment to run down her shoulders and back until it had been completely separated from her body.

She tugged lightly at the bottoms of her black cotton shorts and straightened out her pink fitted t-shirt. The witch turned to face the vampire and found him watching her hungrily.

He licked his lips involuntarily and began to undo the buttons on his silk shirt. Bonnie thought she might faint at the sight of his bare chest and arms in naked perfection.

Her eyes drifted lower to a set of taught, toned abs and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She turned away quickly, realizing he was about to remove his pants next.

"Shouldn't you be changing somewhere more..._private_?" she offered.

"Why do that when I can just stand here and make you go red like a fire engine?" he replied with a smirk.

"I did _not _go red," she maintained. "I just appreciate a little modesty."

"You could be a prude," he suggested, knowing full well it would irritate her.

"Just because I'm not an exhibitionist like you, that does _not_ make me a prude!" Bonnie chucked a pillow at him angrily.

Thanks to his light speed reflexes, he caught it mid-motion. "You throw like a girl."

"I _am_ a girl," she replied, plopping herself onto the mattress and waiting with open arms as he tossed it back.

"Or as the English say, you're a bird."

"An highly irritated bird with magical powers who can set you on fire anytime she wants to," she reminded him, tugging the sheets protectively up to her chin.

"Touche," he responded, falling onto the aged armchair with a loud thud. "Guess I'll just have to get some rest in this _rock hard, back breaking, incredibly uncomfortable chair_."

"I guess so," she exclaimed in her most nonchalant voice. "Besides, you're immortal; your back can take it."

"So says the selfish witch who doesn't even consider that I too, might benefit from a good night's rest. Oh, if only there were a little compassion in this room," he offered melodramatically.

"A: You don't need rest. B: This selfish witch was nearly killed by you not long ago. And C: I don't trust you," she shot back.

"You don't trust _me_?" he began. "Or you don't trust _yourself _with me?"

Bonnie rose to a sitting position and found the vampire scrutinizing her intently. His shirt was still off, but he now wore a pair of black pajama bottoms. He sat lazily in the seat, feasting upon her with a gaze that made her feel completely naked.

"I felt you on the other side of that kiss," he reminded her. "Do you normally show that much enthusiasm when you're lip to lip with just anyone?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied.

"You already flatter me a great deal," he retorted. "You're blushing like a school girl who's just seen a Jonas Brother in person."

"Why do you do that?" she asked, her voice softening a touch.

"Do what exactly?" he inquired, leaning forward slightly.

"It's like a game of push and pull with you. One minute you're all defensive, putting up walls and saying that you don't believe in The Prophecy."

"I don't," he maintained.

"And the next, you're taking to me like we're...like we're..." Her voice trailed off then.

"Like we're what?" Damon leaned forward further so his elbows were balanced on his thighs.

"_Something more_," she finished in a hush tone. "I mean, are you for real right now? Or are you only being real when we're fighting like a vampire and witch who hate each other?"

His eyes became dark and shadowy. He clenched his jaw in frustration. "You should get some rest."

"Guess the walls are back up," she sighed. "That's too bad."

"Why?"

"Because a tiny part of me actually wanted to learn a bit more about the guy who's been saving my life lately."

Bonnie lay down slowly, but she could still see his lounging form out from the corner of her eyes.

He moved against the fabric of the chair in obvious discomfort. Anyone who even took a quick glance at it would have pegged it for some antique torture device. She could hear him groaning repeatedly.

The compassionate part of her wanted to rise up and say, "Sure Damon. You can have the other side. _Just don't touch me_." Another side of her wanted to kick him for being such a stubborn ass.

How on Earth were they ever going to have a child together when at times, they couldn't stand one another? Whose idea of a practical joke was this?

Grudgingly rising, Bonnie called his name, her voice heavily slicked with annoyance. "Damon?"

His eyes opened slowly and a side swept smirk appeared on his pale face. "Yes?"

She rolled her eyes instantly at his reaction. "Take the right side."

He leaped out of the chair with his pillows and blankets. After arranging them carefully, he lay back on the soft mattress and turned to face the witch. "Thank-"

"As much as I'd love to hear you finish that," she confessed. "I think I might die of shock if you do."

"Maybe you should start giving me a little more credit," he grinned.

Bonnie closed her eyes and smiled back at him. "Maybe someday...when you've earned it."

Warm in her bed with added protection drifting off to her right, it didn't take the little witch very long to fall sleep.

***

_She'd often heard the description "lots of green rolling hills," when applied to the Irish countryside. Apparently there had been more than just a shred of truth in that._

_Daylight bled through the thick cluster of clouds. The ground was damp, muddy and doing a number on her leather riding boots._

_Rows of majestic alder trees were on either side of her, as she carefully tread down a long stretch of road. Bonnie managed to catch rare glimpses of homes, dispersed throughout the forest._

_Her feet continued to move forward; it was like they had a mind of their own and they were guiding her to a destination she knew nothing about._

_In fact, she had never even ventured down this path before in her life. It was foreign to her - like this beautiful country._

_Bonnie stopped abruptly and felt her mouth open. She began to chant a spell: "Déan na céimeanna seo a thiachóga ionas gur le choimhthíoch riamh a bhí mé anseo."_

_She watched as each previous footprint she had made began to vanish miraculously. The witch veered into the woods and found that each new impression her boots made in the mud disappeared almost immediately._

_A smile of satisfaction danced across her lovely face. She walked for ten minutes until a gentle swell of smoke began to ascend from a chimney that peaked out from between the leaves._

_Her feet continued to move until finally she stood before a two-story stone cottage with a dark thatched roof. It was the house from her vision earlier on that evening._

_Bonnie looked down at the red mailbox and caught sight of gold lettering on the sides of it: 7 Rivendell Lane. She unlatched the front gate and walked down the narrow pathway up to the blue front door._

_As soon as her feet hit the porch, the door began to creak open. Upon a wooden side table sat a brown vase filled with bluebells, golden irises and fragrant orchids. To the left there was an iron framed mirror on the wall._

_"Hello?" she called out. No one answered...at first._

_There it was again, that distorted female voice with its thick Irish lilt. "It is your destiny!" it hissed. _

Bonnie's eyes flew open and her body shuddered. She felt a pang of fear shoot right through her.

Then she looked down and found a cool, pale hand placed protectively on her stomach. She twisted her body just a touch and found Damon lying nearby on his side.

His chest was so close to being pressed up against her back. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, but his eyes remained shut.

The witch sighed, but this time it wasn't out of frustration. His walls were down again, at least for a little while.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback. I appreciate it more than you know! I've got a list of wonderful readers to thank, so here goes:_**

**_fekinLOVEtea, Impress, Lily, glasvegas, DiorNicole, babyshan211, cherry9021, ILoveRomances, fanficfan84, saderia, TriGemini, Raqual88, IfYouFindThis, CGandJaz, Mrs. SalvatoreBennett_**

**_So in this next chapter, we delve deeper into Ireland. To fekinLOVEtea, thank you so much for your comment. I'm so glad the Gaelic I've inserted into this story has actually been spot on! Like I said, your country inspires me to no end when it comes to literature ; ). _**

**_ILoveRomances, I promise, I will try my best to incorporate shirtless Stefan into a scene ASAP! LOL! I have quite a fondness for his 20-pack as well! :D Alrighty, enjoy Ireland! _**

**Chapter 8: The Cottage In The Woods**

"Why didn't it work?" Tituba Bennett asked, clutching a small, empty vile that once contained protection serum.

Maya grasped the object and began to scrutinize it. "I don't understand," she exclaimed dismally. "I followed the recipe to a tee. It's not like I started brewing the stuff yesterday."

Tituba began to pace back and forth. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but thank God Damon was there."

The witch and fairy exchanged knowing glances with one another and sighed almost simultaneously. "He saved her life twice," Maya remarked.

"And tried to take it once. I still haven't forgotten about that."

"But it's all very Romeo and Juliet-like, isn't it?" the plump woman returned. "My only love sprung from my only hate," she continued, reciting a line from the Shakespearean romance tragedy in a mock English accent.

"Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy," Tituba finished, skipping over a line.

They stood in the secret lair beneath the jewelry shop on a day that had begun on a particularly sour note. Another animal attack had taken place in the woods, promping the Mystic Falls Police Department to place everyone on alert.

The townspeople were encouraged to keep their distance from the area. Not to mention, police presence in the small town had multiplied in a matter of hours.

Tituba could feel the tides turning - and it _wasn't_ in their favour. Certain Supernaturals were being careless, leaving behind proof of their kills and compromising the rest of the mystical word in one fell swoop.

"I suppose there's only one way to figure out this little mystery," Maya continued, expertly inserting a swab into the vile. She placed the sample on top of a glass counter and wondered off to her supply closet.

Grabbing a red velvet bag, she marched back to her work station and began to pull various items out. "Root of chrysanthemum, dried lotus blossoms and homegrown Virginia Bluebells. These should do the trick," the fairy beamed enthusiastically.

"And what exactly is the trick?" her friend questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Tituba, I've been brewing protection serum since I could tie my shoelaces," she began. "I've _never _gotten it wrong and I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to put Bonnie in any danger. So that only leaves one other possibility."

"It was tampered with," the witch surmised. "But no one else can get down here except for you, me and any of the female members of our family."

"And _none of them _have the secret passwords," Maya supplied.

"True," Tituba acknowledged. "So they couldn't have gotten down here and tampered with the final solution."

"But they could have tampered with the ingredients, themselves," the fairy supplied. "That's what we're about to find out."

Setting aside equal amounts of each plant, she then added them to a boiling pot of broth made with selected herbs and the root of a rose bush. Once it was done, she poured a cup of the liquid into a miniature cauldron and dropped the serum sample inside.

"A little of that _witchy ju ju_, if you please," she winked at her best friend.

Smirking playfully, Tituba leaned forward and began to chant. "Take a thairiscint againn agus insint dúinn céard a fheiceann tú. Is í an fhírinne faoi cad a lorg againn."

"You know, I never understood why you witches were always so fascinated by Gaelic incantations. "_'Take what we offer and tell us what you see. The truth within is what we seek'_ sounds perfectly fine to me."

"It's the language of The Ancients," Tituba replied, smacking her friend playfully. "Shhh. Look!"

The contents began to bubble and toil within the small pot. Then the colour began to transform and what was left behind was a bright pink gel like solution.

"Just as I suspected," Maya concluded. "Now we have to wait for the tainted ingredient to rise to the top of the fluid. Wait for it, wait for it..."

It rose gradually, one purple tip until finally an entire blossom revealed itself. "A periwinkle," Tituba announced.

"I get them from the woods," the fairy explained.

"Where your brother was lurking around the other night," her best friend reminded her.

"That little shit!" she responded. "I'll get him. I'll get him good!"

"Before you do that, you might want to get rid of any other supplies you've collected from the woods. You never know what else he's been tainting out there," the witch suggested.

"I'm so mad. I could kill him!" Maya shrieked bitterly.

"I know. So could I."

"I should've known he'd do this," she lamented. "Mixing potions - it's in our blood. He's almost as good as me."

Tituba gave her friend a reassuring pat on the back before glancing at her watch. "Alright, I'd best be headin' home now. I've got papers to mark and a grandchild to phone in Dublin."

"You really think Bonnie will be safe there?" Maya asked. "Especially since you know who lives there..."

"My intuition told me it was the right thing to do," she explained. "Not to mention, she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"And she's with the Salvatore brothers. They'll keep her safe."

***

"It looked like a cottage," Bonnie recalled. The supernatural trio sat at Mahoney's enjoying a traditional Irish breakfast of fried eggs, black and white pudding, bacon and a fresh baked loaf of soda bread.

Of course she was the only one who could truly enjoy the filling sensation of human food. The Salvatore brothers, on the other hand, continued ordering freshly brewed pots of coffee to fuel themselves for the day ahead.

"_7 Rivendell Lane_," Stefan thought aloud. "And nothing about this place seemed familiar to you?"

"No," Bonnie answered, taking a sip of her orange juice. "But I just can't get that voice out of my head. _'Magic lives here. It's your destiny.'_"

"Yeah well, according to a certain Prophecy, _our destinies are intertwined_," Damon reminded her, sitting to her left.

He casually snatched a strip of crispy bacon from her plate and began to chomp down on it. "Mmm, not bad."

"Should you even be eating that?" Bonnie asked, more than a little surprised to see him interested in human food as opposed to _humans as food_ for a change.

"Guess I just can't resist the enticing aroma of fried, cholesterol-boosting, fatty strips of goodness," he smirked sideways.

Dropping her bacon back onto the plate, she rolled her eyes in response. "You always know how to make _everything _sound _so appealing_."

"I do what I can," he winked, biting off another piece of meat.

"It's just a cover," Stefan inserted. "Helps us blend in more with everyone else."

"Yup," his brother added. "And it just happens to taste _so good_."

Makes sense, she supposed. The waitress was on her way over with another pot of freshly brewed coffee when Bonnie's hand shot up. "Excuse me, Evelyn?"

"Yes dear, what can I do for you?" she smiled graciously.

"My friends and I were hoping to take a little trip to the countryside. You see, an old friend of mine owns this gorgeous little cottage. There's just one problem," she lied.

"What's that?" the waitress inquired.

"I don't quite remember the name of the town she lives in," Bonnie meekly replied. "You see, she told me about the big move ages ago. I do know she lives on Rivendell Lane, though."

"Well my darlin,'" the merry woman began. "We've got quite a bit of countryside to scower. I'm not so sure I know the place you mean. Perhaps you should try visiting the library and hop onto one of the computers there. They seem to have all the answers nowadays."

"No need," a friendly female voice chimed in. "I believe the town you're lookin' for is called _'Kenmare.'_"

Bonnie's heart immediately skipped a beat. _Kenmare. _That was the name of the town in her vision of The Three.

Tilting their bodies forward, the trio were now able to see a petite woman in her 40s seated in a booth for two. She had copper skin, chestnut eyes and long, wavy raven locks.

"Sorry," she began in a thick Irish accent. "I don't mean to be eavesdropping. It's just that you mentioned _Rivendell Lane_ and I just happen to be heading that way, myself."

Their eyes widened simultaneously at their sudden luck. Bonnie looked at Damon, he looked at Stefan and they all looked at the stranger smiling back at them.

"The name's Fiona," she offered, rising from her seat. She walked toward them, hand outstretched and waiting to be shaken.

"Bonnie," the witch replied, reaching out to greet the woman before her. "How do you know for certain the Rivendell Lane I'm referring to is in..." She still couldn't believe it.

"_Kenmare?" _the woman offered.

"Kenmare," Stefan repeated, still in disbelief.

"Well you see," she began to explain. "There's only one Rivendell Lane in Ireland. Besides, the only other Rivendell I know of is from _Lord of the Rings_ - and elves live there."

"And who lives on Rivendell Lane?" Damon queried.

"Mostly ordinary country folk," she answered sweetly. "Although I have a few neighbours who could certainly pass for elves."

Bonnie chuckled in response. "Well we were hoping to head down to Kenmare sometime today," she began, turning to eye both brothers. "Right guys?"

"Right," they both replied.

"Guess that means we'll be on the same train then," she responded. "Next one leaves town in four hours."

***

Thanks to her little silver Prius, Bonnie had been able to avoid the many splendors of public transportation - until now. After purchasing three tickets for the next ride out to Killarney, she and the Salvatore brothers were crammed inside a tiny train compartment.

Once they arrived, they would hop the bus for the 45-minute journey to Kenmare. In total, they'd be in transit for close to five hours.

They had a little time to re-pack their belongings and grab maps and pocket-sized books on their destination. Bonnie changed into a charcoal cowl neck sweater dress with black tights and her chocolate hued riding boots.

The witch found herself once again squeezed between Stefan and Damon. It wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world. They were handsome enough and pretty entertaining, she had to admit.

They also happened to be fierce and relentless in battle. She'd be safe with them.

Fiona Reid, the woman they had stumbled upon in the restaurant, was seated a few compartments over. It seemed she often took this route. She lived with her husband in Kenmare, not far from Rivendell Lane and had agreed to help them find the cottage with the dark thatched roof and red mailbox.

"Are you sure we can trust her?" Damon whispered into Bonnie's ear.

"Honestly, I don't know," the witch replied, leaning into him slightly. "The fact of the matter is, she's the only one who knows how to get where we need to be right now."

"Seems almost too convenient, don't you think?" he offered, raising an eyebrow.

She bit her lower lip in contemplation. "I suppose so. But we don't know how much time Elena has left. The visions I've been getting - they all seem to be pointing in one direction and this train is heading there."

"You should get some rest," Damon suggested, brushing aside a strand of hair from her forehead.

She smiled warmly at him and remembered the way his arm had been slung around her waist while she slept. By the time she had opened her eyes again in the morning, he was already in the shower, singing an off-tune rendition of a Dropkick Murphys song.

Bonnie stifled her laughter by pulling the white comforter over her head. It was strange, feeling so comfortable around him.

She turned her body toward him and leaned her head against the cushy seat. Closing her eyes, she drifted off for the next four hours.

***

It was almost 6:30 in the evening and the train had just pulled into the Killarney Railway Station. Bonnie felt a cold hand against her cheek and slowly opened her eyes.

"Damon?" she whispered groggily.

"Time to wake up, sleepyhead," he remarked playfully. "We're here."

Grasping her hand, he helped her to her feet. Bonnie grabbed her black carry-on and brown leather bag and found Stefan observing them both with an amused grin on his sweet face.

Damon rolled his eyes and began to exit the cabin. "You guys coming, or what?"

On the platform, they met with Fiona Reid. She was all smiles and good spirits with a touch of tired on the side.

Together, the foursome boarded the number 82 bus to Kenmare. They drove through sprawling forests and yet more glorious rolling hills of green. No wonder this place was called the 'Emerald Isle.'

The witch felt herself being shoved in all directions, as the vehicle clumsily made its way over cracks and bumps in the road. At one point, she nearly collided with Damon.

"You just _can't_ keep your hands off of me, can you?" he asked mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Bonnie sighed and turned away. _She_ was the one who couldn't keep her hands to herself? Please!

Staring out the window, a familiar sight came into view. From over top of the trees, she could see a church steeple and as the bus drew nearer, the brightly coloured buildings revealed themselves.

Automatically clutching Damon's forearm as though it were a life preserver, she found herself panicking on the inside. The emerald sign with gold lettering was there, just as it had been in her vision. _Murphy's Pub._

"Damon," she began.

"I know," he responded. "I see it too."

It clearly hadn't gone unnoticed by Stefan who was already busy trying to coerce the driver into stopping in town.

"Looks like your friend's a little eager to see the sights," Fiona chuckled lightly. "I'll tell you what, why don't we drop into Murphy's for a pint and then I'll drive you kids back to Rivendell Lane afterward?"

Stefan's powers of persuasion seemed to work like a charm. The bus suddenly came to a creeping halt. Bonnie beamed gratefully at the kind woman and rose from her seat. "We'll buy."

Murphy's was one of several pubs that lined the main street. Paddy's, O'Flanagan's and O'Toole's were all nearby as well.

As they approached the old stone building, Bonnie felt an overwhelming sense of dread come over her. Her heart began to palpitate inside her chest and just as she felt she was about to lose her nerve to walk in, she felt a cool hand slide into hers.

Damon laced his fingers through hers gently and whispered into her ear. "I'm right here."

Instead of calming instantly, her heart all but leaped out from her chest. Apparently his walls were down again and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

They entered the old pub to the sounds of blaring Celtic music and the boisterous laughter of men and women clutching pints, brandy and the odd glass of wine. Banjos, fiddles and percussion instruments filled their ears while their eyes watched for any sign of the peculiar.

"Why hello there, lass," a man in his thirties greeted enthusiastically, raising his glass toward the beautiful witch.

Bonnie smiled nervously and tightened her grip on Damon's hand. "I think you have an admirer," he chuckled.

As they approached the bar, a hefty man in his fifties beamed at them from behind the counter. "So what'll you be having?"

"The usual please, Joe," Fiona ordered politely.

"Four pints of Kilkenny comin' right up," he replied energetically.

They hopped onto the stools and began to observe the throngs of people gathered in merriment. "Underage drinking," Damon began, shaking his head playfully at Bonnie. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not so sure Grams would approve," he smirked.

"What Grams doesn't know won't hurt her," Bonnie answered seductively, surprising herself. "Besides, _I'm legal here_."

"That you are," he winked, placing the palm of his hand on the small of her back. He leaned in and whispered gently into her ear. "You gettin' any strange vibes from this place?"

Bonnie scanned the crowd for anything remotely unusual. Heavily inebriated dwellers? Check. Mass quantities of alcohol? Check. Friendly yet firm bartender? Another check.

Even after shaking his hand, the little witch hadn't picked up on a single odd vibration. Her head wasn't reeling, her thoughts hadn't been invaded by The Three. This place was unexpectedly ordinary.

Disappointed, she shook her head. "Nothing. I'm sorry."

Stefan overheard her apology and turned toward them. "It's alright. We just got here. We'll find her."

"He's right," Damon chucked in. "We're here. That's the first step."

Nodding, she smiled sweetly up at the brothers. She was grateful for their understanding, but still perplexed by her visions. So far, Murphy's had been a bust...

"Where's the lovely Fiona?" Damon inquired, changing the subject for her sake.

"Ladies room," Stefan answered.

"And I'm back," she chimed in, appearing suddenly behind the younger Salvatore. "Did you handsome young lads miss me?"

Grabbing their hands, Fiona flung the brothers out onto the hardwood floor with her. For a woman who had appeared so sweet and diminutive when they first met her, she was quite a lively dancer.

Watching Damon dance a jig was hilarious enough. When Stefan finally surrendered his ordinarily brooding demeanor to the lords of dance, his feet moved in a way Bonnie had never thought possible.

_Man, if only Elena were here right now. She'd totally get a kick out of this. _

The brisk pace of the music gradually began to transform. It became more melodic, slower in tempo. The fiddler's bow glided effortlessly across the strings of his instrument, giving way to a tune so tender and affectionate. Bonnie felt herself being pulled in with each emotionally charged note.

She watched as Fiona pulled Stefan and Damon in for a dance. No doubt the young, pretty girls in the pub were gazing at the scene, thinking 'Lucky cow!'

Bonnie grinned at the sight and laughed heartily when Damon shot her one of his devilishly handsome smirks. She turned back to the bar for a moment and took another swig of the rich cream ale.

A cool hand came down smoothly upon hers. "May I have this dance?"

Turning to face him, she stared into his cool blue gaze and hopped off the bar stool. His eyes stayed fixed on the little witch, sending a tingling sensation floating down her spine.

Damon gently placed her arms around his neck, while his own snaked around her tiny waist. "Is this for real?" she asked.

"This is me asking the prettiest girl in the room to dance," he smoothly replied.

Giggling at what was certainly the cheesiest remark to slip from his lips since they'd met, Bonnie leaned her head against his chest. She could feel a slight suction against her raven locks. He had just taken the opportunity to sniff the lavender fragrance of her shampoo.

Bonnie smiled to herself and lifted her gaze once more. His sapphire pools were a culmination of several emotions. Hunger. Passion. Amazement.

"That was pretty cheesy," she laughed, brushing aside a rebellious lock of hair from his forehead. Leaning in closer, she allowed her gaze to linger upon his lips. "But I liked it."

Foreheads tilted toward one another, Bonnie felt his arms lifting her off the floorboards. His lips brushed against hers langorously while her fingers wove themselves through his thick mass of midnight locks.

With a great deal of reluctance, their mouths parted and they stood silent. They gazed at one another for what seemed like hours. Damon then gathered her in his arms and began to sweep her across the dancefloor again.

By the time their evening pub crawl had come to an end, the trio found themselves inside Fiona's Corolla. Fortunately for them, she had parked close to the main street of the town.

Bonnie and Stefan had fallen asleep, but as usual Damon decided rest wasn't for him.

"So how long have you and Bonnie been sweet on one another?" the petite woman inquired, looking into her rearview mirror.

Damon chuckled at the suggestion of him actually being sweet on someone. That had only happened once and even then, the circumstances of his life were so different, so turbulent.

"We're not actually together," he began to explain.

"Oh?" she responded. "So what's stoppin' you?"

145 years of reservations about humanity, he thought dismally. An undead love. My own stubborness.

"She's a special woman, you know?" Fiona smiled. "Beauty, charm. She's got compassion. You can see it in the eyes, you know? My mother always said so."

Damon didn't need some stranger to state the obvious. She was sleeping right beside him, head leaning against his muscular shoulder, holding onto his hand like they really were more.

What a turn of events, he thought.

"Alright, here we go through the mud," the woman continued, as they drove through endless rows of alders.

Damon could see smoke brimming from a few of the chimnies nearby. The sky was filled with stars tonight.

He felt the car shift gears as it began to drive over rougher terrain. They had turned into a dark, winding, muddy path and were now getting closer to a home.

The vampire could see dark thatched roofing, intricate designs woven into the barrier between house and sky. He watched as they pulled up toward a gate with a red mailbox positioned right where Bonnie had said it would be.

"7 Rivendell Lane," she announced pleasantly.

"Stef, Bonnie," Damon began to nudge them awake.

When they finally opened their eyes, brown and green orbs were bulging out of their sockets like never before.

"This is it!" Bonnie shrieked.

The witch immediately sprung forth from the vehicle and approached the gate. Suddenly reticent, she paused. "It's so late," she began. "Whoever lives here is probably fast asleep already."

"Or not," Fiona inserted with a grin.

"It would be rude to just waltz in on someone in the middle of the night," she insisted. "We should probably just find a local inn to stay at for tonight and then we'll come back in the morning."

"Or you could stay with me," the petite woman offered.

"We wouldn't want to impose," Stefan began.

"No imposition whatsoever," she replied. "Now I won't hear anymore on the matter. You're staying with me and that's final," she smiled.

"Alright," Bonnie finally agreed. "Back in the car, I guess."

"For what?" Fiona asked.

"To head home with you," she answered.

"Well my darlin,' _this is my home_," Fiona grinned. "Welcome to Bellwain Cottage. I'm Tabitha's last remaining descendant."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hey guys, I am so touched by all of the amazing reviews I received for chapter 8. I haven't blushed this much in a while! Chapter 9 is a bit long, but from what I've read in the reviews, you seem to enjoy that a lot! ;)**_

_**I've got a big list of thank yous, so here goes:**_

_**KOF, UrbanWitch, RockerChick08, Vampire Lover26, CGandJaz, Impress, cherry9021, TriGemini, Lily (Haha, you can get to know Fiona a little better in this chapter ;)), FekinLOVEtea, doodlechick12, babyshan211, saderia, DiorNicole, -'.SmxiiWolfyRosie.'-, Wateva, Raqual88, Periodic Brilliance, etgoddess, fanficfan84, Tiffany**_

_**So last week I forgot to include a list of songs for my ongoing soundtrack for "Something Supernatural." Here are my picks for this chapter. Also, thank you to Periodic Brilliance for the Flogging Molly suggestion. I love the song! Look out for it in chapter 11. ;) Enjoy the music and the story! **_

_**"True Love Way" by Kings of Leon **_

_**"Stand Inside Your Love" by Smashing Pumpkins **_

_**"Cosmic Love" by Florence and the Machine**_

**Chapter 9: Burn For You**

Daylight streamed through the open windows of the cottage kitchen. The walls had been painted the loveliest lemon curd hue and the cabinets were a rich green.

Bonnie clutched the earthenware mug close to her chest with both hands. The pleasant mist of heat that rose from it gently warmed her face.

So many questions. So many unexpected answers. That was the only way she could think to summarize the events of the previous evening.

Fiona Reid was anything but who she had claimed to be back in Dublin. For starters, she was a well-trained witch with a history tied to The Prophecy.

The Revelation

Bonnie and the Salvatore brothers stood shell-shocked by the words that had just escaped from her lips. "Welcome to Bellwain Cottage. I'm Tabitha's last remaining descendant."

The petite copper skinned witch watched with great amusement as three distinct expressions began to form on their faces.

Stefan, ever the determined detective, was busy connecting the dots in his head. Bonnie was absolutely flabbergasted, but waiting to hear more.

Damon, on the other hand, looked about as enraged as a bull after having a red flag waved before his eyes. Right now his were clouded by a deep desire to punish the woman who had deceived them.

Deciding to break the uneasy silence, she smiled warmly. "Anyone got any questions?"

"You lied to us," Bonnie began softly. "Why?"

"Well _why not?" _she replied, placing a hand on her hip. "I go out for breakfast and suddenly three mysterious Americans are yappin' away about a cottage with _my address _and I'm not supposed to be curious?"

Bonnie supposed she had a point. "So you had no idea we'd be in Dublin?"

"I'm a witch, not a psychic," she replied. "I was in Dublin visiting an old friend. Then by the grace of Elora, you three turned up."

"The Witch Goddess?" Bonnie queried, moving closer to where the woman sat.

"Ay," she nodded. "We witches have a very close bond with nature. Elora is everywhere. She's in the trees. The gentle stream of water that runs through these woods. The very soil beneath our feet."

Bonnie's eyes moved from one element of the landscape to the next in wonderment. Then her eyes came to rest upon Damon. He seemed to have calmed down considerably since the unforeseen twist in their little journey.

Still, he looked incredibly skeptical of every word that fell from Fiona's lips.

Then another thought dawned on her. "Wait a second. I shook your hand. I didn't get any strange vibes from you."

"I didn't get any _strange vibes_ from you either," the dark-haired witch returned with a chuckle.

"But I can sense things," the pretty teenager insisted.

"And I can _keep you_ from sensing things whenever I want," the woman answered.

Glancing over at a still fuming Damon Salvatore, she sighed. "You might want to turn your anger down _a few hundred notches _there, lad. I'm on _your_ side."

Sensing his brother's growing irritation, Stefan took a step between the two. "You owe us an explanation, Fiona."

"If that's even her real name," Damon bitterly chucked in through gritted teeth.

"It is," she nodded. "Fiona Bridget Reid, to be more precise. I come from one of the oldest witching families in the western world."

Resting against the chocolate brown wooden fence, she stared up at the faces before her. "For centuries, we've been devoted followers of Elora."

"Of course spiritual worship is not our only purpose in life," the witch continued. "For over 145 years, we Bellwains, have been _Guardians of the Prophecy_. Your identity has remained a closely guarded secret for quite some time, my dear."

"You knew it would be me?" Bonnie's eyes bulged from their sockets.

How could these supposed "guardians" keep something so life-altering from her? Shouldn't they have spent the last few years preparing her for battle instead? Her magic still wasn't up to par.

Having heard each one of her thoughts, Fiona moved forward and placed a reassuring hand on the teenager's shoulder. "The rest of your life is going to be dramatic enough. How could we not grant you at least a little bit of normalcy for your first seventeen years?"

"I'm not even close to my magical peak yet," Bonnie insisted.

"You'll get there soon enough," the Irish witch replied confidently. "Just think of me as your own personal _Glinda_. Good witch, little less pale though," she winked.

"So what happens if we follow the yellow brick road?" Damon questioned her, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"Your friend Elena gets saved and _you two_," she continued, pointing at the vampire and little witch. "Become proud parents."

Damon glanced over at Bonnie and found her shyly watching her feet. A rosy hue lit up her cheeks like two Chinese lanterns in a New Years parade.

"How do you know about Elena?" Stefan inserted.

"She's all that's been racing through _your mind _since we met," Fiona smiled sympathetically at the younger vampire. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

"So how exactly do you propose a witch and a vampire procreate, _Glinda?" _Damon queried, arching a brow inquisitively at her.

Taking another step closer to him, she looked him squarely in the eyes. _"The old fashioned way."_

Bonnie could feel her face grow warm instantly. Talk of reproduction was one thing; but sex with Damon Salvatore was in a whole different league of _things that make you go hmmm..._

A smirk spread across the vampire's handsome face. "Last time I checked, dead men shot nothin' but blanks."

"What can I say," she began to reply. "Sometimes all it takes is meeting _the right person_."

Damon locked eyes with Bonnie and almost immediately tapped into her thoughts. He could see every delicious, carnal image that swam through her imagination.

Her legs were tightly wound around his waist, as he carried her naked to his bed. Raven locks were fanned around her head like a halo, while her cinnamon skin was slicked with sweat.

Intoxicating pheromones filled his nostrils. He took her right there and a powerful wave of pleasure rippled through her body as she trembled beneath him.

Shaking his head from side to side, he knocked the image from his mind. _Snap out of it, Salvatore!_

"We really should be getting inside now," Fiona chimed in. "There are those who wonder in the night."

"The Fior?" Stefan asked.

"Their henchmen," she exclaimed. "Not all members of the witching world worship Elora. _They turn to darkness for light._ And they seek The Witch."

"Did Grams know?" Bonnie asked suddenly. "That it was supposed to be me?"

"No," Fiona replied. "She only knew that one day a Bennett woman would bear The Child. The pieces started to come together the night you were so viciously attacked in the woods."

An expression of utter remorse and embarrassment formed on the older vampire's face. He couldn't take back what he had attempted to do that night.

Of course, Emily had been his target. But it was Bonnie who felt the agonizing pain of his canines as they pierced through the delicate skin of her neck and plunged into her veins.

Taking a step closer to him, the little witch slid her tiny hand into his. She could feel the shame circulating through his undead body. "Let's go inside," she softly exclaimed, her angelic gaze fixed on him.

In The Morn

Fiona had revealed a great deal to them the night before. For one thing, the Bellwains were a dedicated and courageous lot.

Trying to keep a lid on one of the biggest secrets in the supernatural underworld was an arduous task not designated to the faint of heart. Each member of the family had sworn an oath and laid down their lives, prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice so that The Child may live.

Pure blood supernaturals came from far and wide in search of The Witch's identity. From Asian witching clans to American werewolves and Indian fairies, magical combat had become an all too frequent occurrence.

Fiona's own mother had perished in battle against one of the elusive Three. Her heart had been savagely ripped from her chest and a coin was placed strategically in its place.

_'Lord Everett' _was etched into the silver round - a name that continues to haunt her 'til this day.

Bonnie shuddered at the grotesque thought. She would need to concentrate all of her energy on becoming entirely proficient in The Craft if they were going to be able to save Elena and battle The Three.

Their dwelling had been well guarded by an invisible force field for hundreds of years. No amount of skilled, persistent scribing could reveal it.

Since their late night arrival, Fiona had placed a protection spell on the home and the land surrounding it. No one would be able to sense Bonnie's presence here. To them, it would continue to appear like any other cottage in the woods.

"My dreams led us here," Bonnie mentioned to the older woman the previous night. "I saw Murphy's, this house...and The Three."

It was an encouraging sign, Fiona concluded. Her powers were becoming amplified and had begun to manifest themselves in a deeper, more meaningful way than just having a flare for pyrotechnics.

Slicing a warm raisin scone in half, the petite American witch slathered a dollop of rich clotted cream on one side. Then she spooned a generous serving of sweet, sticky strawberry jam on top.

"Mmm," a familiar male voice slithered smoothly into her right ear. "Looks good."

Chomping down on the buttery pastry, she smirked as he sat beside her. "It tastes even better than it looks."

"I bet," he replied with a devilishly handsome grin.

Flirting with Damon Salvatore definitely hadn't been on her agenda a couple of weeks ago. If anything, the words _'stake, fire and imminent demise'_ were penciled into her planner with a little fanged stick figure drawing of him beside them.

"How was breakfast in the woods?" she inquired, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a white napkin.

"Here. Let me," he offered, removing the cloth from her grasp and gently wiping away the few traces of jam.

Then taking his chin between his thumb and index finger, he watched her reflectively. "Well it wasn't my usual breakfast," the vampire began, lounging against the wooden chair. "But it was a star-studded affair. Thumper and Bambi were there. And Piglet was just as delectable," he replied in a mock Irish accent.

Smacking him hard on the shoulder, she shook her head in horror. "There go all of my _happy childhood memories_."

Grimacing in pretend pain, Damon yelped. "_Ouch! _You know, that really hurt."

Dipping her finger into the mound of clotted cream on her plate, Bonnie held her index finger up between them. The blue-eyed vampire licked his lips in anticipation.

Instead of allowing him to lap the rich topping off of her, she placed it into her own mouth and winked. "Did not."

"So where's Stefan?" she continued, feeling a tinge of satisfaction at making him squirm momentarily.

"Finishing off Bambi," he casually replied, giving her a gentle pinch on the arm.

She didn't know whether to slap him for his insensitivity or lay one on him for being so damn sexy in the process. Bonnie closed her eyes for a moment and let out a content sigh. His cool fingertips grazed the bare naked expanse of her butterscotch-hued shoulders.

The little witch opened her eyes and found his azure gaze fixed intently on her mouth. Damon licked his lips hungrily and began to close the distance between them. Then it happened.

_Bonnie was there in a place so dank and depressing, you could feel your pores become saturated by ill will and gloom. There was very little light, save for a few scattered candles. The moss-covered walls were dark and damp._

_"Help me," a feminine voice cried weakly._

_Her head whipped to the left and stumbled upon a horrifying sight. Elena had been chained to the wall. Her arms and legs had been badly bruised by the friction of her skin rubbing persistently against the ice cold steel restraints._

_Blood dripped from a cut on her lower lip onto the emerald dress she had worn to the dance. Tattered and turning a shade of brown, the strip of cloth had begun to hang from her starving form._

_Sensing she wasn't alone, Bonnie slowly, reluctantly turned around. The three foreboding shadowy figures stood before her. "Is é an deireadh nigh!" the cloaked man in the center bellowed._

_She could feel the ground beneath her feet begin to quake. Rocks crumbled and fell around her, narrowly missing her slender form. Turning back to her best friend, Bonnie could see the girl begin to lose consciousness._

_The witch grabbed her red amulet and began to chant, while moving closer to the captive brunette. "Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc!"_

_Suddenly she felt her back pressed up against the wall of the cave. Elena was tugging at her shirt. "Find me Bonnie. I'm still alive. You're the only one who can save me."_

_Turning back to The Three, she found herself being engulfed by darkness. "No!"_

_Bonnie tried desperately to remove the restraints from Elena's hands and legs, but they were quickly advancing on them both. The brunette's bloodcurdling scream pierced her ears. "No! Go away! Go away! Go away!"_

Reality began to sink in again, as she felt his frigid fingertips gently massaging her temples. Bonnie's eyelids flew open and a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her.

She could feel her head falling uncontrollably forward. Damon placed his palms on the sides of her face for support and looked deeply into her eyes.

"What did you see?" he asked softly.

"E-Elena," she stammered. "_She's alive_, Damon."

***

"It was a gross miscalculation, my Lords." Rudyard Duke stood before The Three, desperately pleading his case.

His sinister violet gaze was now flooded with fear. The Three were not renowned for their merciful ways and his little _"miscalculation"_ had certainly stirred the fury within.

"_Gross indeed," _Lord Everett began. "Tell us, Rudyard, how should we punish you?"

The salt and pepper haired man gulped. "But my Lords, the Intuitive Waters told us she would be in Mystic Falls. They led me to that dreadful institution they dare to call a '_school.' She_ is with a vampire," he began, pointing at the mortal girl whimpering behind him. "I felt it when I shook hands with the creature, himself. _He _is a Salvatore!"

"Evidently not the right one," Lord Atwater quickly chimed in, his voice slicked with annoyance.

"Such an _amateur_ mistake," Lord Davies threw in coldly. "And here we thought you had...real potential."

"You said they would be in love," the warlock clumsily replied. "I assumed-"

A rod of lightening shot forth from Atwater's fingertips. "_That_ was your mistake! _Never assume, you idiot!" _Rudyard narrowly dodged the scorching blade and now looked more like a little boy who had just been brutally scolded by his Catholic school teacher.

Elena groaned against the hard, damp wall of rock. Her wrists and ankles had been chained in place. No food. No water. No light.

All she had to comfort her were thoughts of Stefan, Bonnie, Jeremy and Jenna. She needed to get through this for them.

Upon her arrival in their lair, The Three had scrutinized her closely. Lord Everett seized her hand and concentrated hard. Quickly, he fetched a cup of water from the stone cauldron.

They forced her to drink and waited. Her eyes began to burn and her whole body felt feverish. Then they chanted. "Taispeáin dúinn an fhírinne. Tabhair dúinn solas. Do eagna. An radharc! Taispeáin dúinn an fhírinne. Tabhair dúinn solas. Do eagna. An radharc!"

Intense heat and agonizing pain gathered at her forehead. They watched for a symbol, a mark of some kind to denote the presence of The Witch.

Gathering the few remaining ounces of strength she had, Elena grabbed hold of the cauldron for support and caught sight of her reflection in the water. The word 'Duine' had been etched into her skin.

"Human," she heard one of the cloaked men hiss. That's when the chains came out.

Now the same shadowy figure who had coerced her into drinking from the cauldron stood before her. "Do you know The Witch?" he asked.

Shaking her head from side to side, she replied weakly, "I don't know...w-what you're t-talking about."

Lord Everett tilted his head questioningly to the side. "You know, it would be most _unwise_ of you to lie."

She could feel her breath grow more and more ragged with his increasing closeness. "W-what witch?"

Placing the palm of his hand against her forehead, he closed his eyes. "Tabhair dúinn comhartha supernatural fola. Cailleach feasa nó mortal in ár midst?"

Elena began to feel the most excruciating pain she had ever felt in her life. It was as though someone had taken a drill to her brain. The roughness of his voice grating against her eardrums as he continued to chant certainly didn't help matters.

She could feel her body growing weaker by the second. The Lord removed his hand after a minute. "_Best friends?" _he smiled maniacally.

Turning from her, he whipped his hand in Rudyard's direction. Instantly, the man was thrust against the wall across from Elena.

"Please, my Lords!" he yelped. "Give me _one more chance_. _I promise you_, I will bring you The Witch."

Davies and Atwater looked more than ready to pounce on their prey. He was held in place by an invisible rope, sweating like he had just journeyed for hours on end through the desert.

"They have a close bond," Lord Everett began suddenly. "The girl and The Witch are almost like...sisters. No doubt, it will only be a matter of time before she washes up on our shores seeking her friend."

"What are you saying?" Lord Davies questioned him.

"Let us seek counsel from the Intuitive Waters again," he suggested calmly. "They were not wrong about Mystic Falls."

"Perhaps they can tell us where she is now," Rudyard offered in desperation. "Then I can set out to find her."

The three gathered around the cauldron and began their incantation. "Taispeáin dúinn an cailleach feasa, Bonnie Bennett. Taispeáin dúinn an cailleach feasa, Bonnie Bennett. Taispeáin dúinn an cailleach feasa, Bonnie Bennett."

Elena looked on helplessly as the cauldron bubbled and squelched. Plumes of smoke rose from the murky waters to the ceiling of the cave and a foul stench wafted through the air.

A vision began to appear in the fluid. It was Bonnie stepping off a plane in Dublin. She walked beside two leather-clad figures.

Instantly she knew, Stefan and Damon were with her. Of course they would each move Heaven and Earth to find her.

A bright light flashed from the cauldron, causing her to flinch. Another image appeared. This time Bonnie and the Salvatore brothers were boarding a train. The destination board read _'Killarney.'_

Another flash and the waters went murky again. Lord Everett turned to face the violet-eyed warlock.

"It seems The Witch has reached our blessed shores," he began with a devious grin. "Do _not_ fail us, Rudyard...or I'll have your head on a platter for supper. Is that quite understood?"

He nodded vigorously and accepted his new assignment. Find the witch. Kill The Prophecy.

***

Explaining her sudden vision of Elena to Stefan had been difficult. She wanted to offer him even the smallest shred of hope, but who knew what The Three had in store for her?

The brown-eyed vampire flinched at the mention of his girlfriend's body, chained and bruised. Her bloody lip sent a surge of repressed rage coursing right through is veins.

It made the darkness inside of him fight for release, just so he could wreak havoc on those who would dare to touch her.

Standing beside his brother in a circular formation of trees, he watched as Bonnie and Fiona lit a fire at the center. Magic lesson number one: manipulating the elements using magic.

"I can control fire, water, wind and earth - _all with my mind_," Fiona began to explain. "A witch's connection to the Earth is like a mere mortal's need for oxygen; it is _absolutely vital_. Remember that."

Bonnie nodded, sopping up every detail like a sponge. This was the first time she had attempted any magic since the night in the woods with Grams, Stefan and Elena.

Considering how badly the experience had gone, she was a little reticent to delve into the mystical tonight. Then again, what choice did she have? She _needed_ to do this for Elena, for herself and try as she might to avoid thinking about it, for the unborn child she had been hearing so much about.

"I sense a great connection between you and the flames," Fiona continued. "Every witch has her forte."

Gesturing for Bonnie to take a step back, she stretched her arms out before her and cried out into the night. "Incendia!"

Flames sprung up from the ground and encircled her. They spread fast and furiously. Seconds later, her eyelids flew open and she smirked confidently. "Stad!"

Almost instantly, they disappeared.

"Now you try," she exclaimed, ushering Bonnie forward.

Casting a weary expression at both of the Salvatore brothers, Bonnie voiced her reluctance. "M-maybe we should start with another spell. The last time I tried this one, it didn't turn out so well."

"Nonsense," the older witch flatly replied. "I can sense the fire within you, my dear. This is _your_ forte. And besides, you've got me standing right here along with the lads. _Nothing_ will go wrong."

Fiona extended her right arm and offered her hand to Bonnie. Cautiously, the young girl took it.

She stood at the center of the circle and looked up at Damon. Instinctively, he knew what she needed most right now. Staring deeply into her eyes, he flashed her the most brilliant smile he could muster.

Bonnie beamed back at him and threw her arms into the air. _Inhale 1, 2, 3. Exhale 1, 2, 3._

She gathered all of her strength and readied her vocal chords to issue a fierce command. "Incendia!"

Orange, red and yellow shot out from the earth and formed a band around her. Between the flames, she could still see the blue eyed vampire watching her intently..._protectively._

Heat continued to radiate from the supernatural blaze. Bonnie could feel tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on the back of her neck and forehead.

She closed her eyes and lifted her arms toward the sky again. "Stad!"

Apprehensively, she opened one eye at a time. The fire was gone. She had really done it.

An overwhelming sense of relief and victory washed over her. Boldness and ferocity had begun to set in as well. The little witch flashed them all her very own devil-may-care grin.

"I knew it!" Fiona chimed in, raising her arms triumphantly into the air. "_You_ are a natural, my dear and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

She could feel her cheeks flush at the slew of compliments being thrown her way. "So what's next?" she asked enthusiastically.

"How 'bout you bring the rain?" the Irish woman suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"How?" she questioned her.

Keeping Bonnie beside her, Fiona placed her palms together before her in a prayer pose. "'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn," she casually muttered to Bonnie. "In English it means _'Water from the sky, to the earth where we lie.'_"

The young witch stared up at the night sky and marveled at the new knowledge that she could control what came from so far away. _If Elena were here right now, she'd freak!_

"There is one thing about this spell that makes it very different from the last one," Fiona continued to explain. "You will need to pour _every ounce of emotion _you can spare into it. You must draw on the moments that scared and saddened you most. The ones where you felt the _most intense rush of feelings _that you've _ever _felt in your life. To bring the rain is to make the skies cry. They need ample motivation, my dear, so _dig deep _when I ask."

Waiting to be prompted, the witch began to scan through the movie reel of her life. First grade being nearly attacked by a neighbor's rottweiler. Yup, that was definitely frightening.

Finding out she was the descendant of a powerful witching family with ties to Salem. Another pretty unnerving revelation.

_Almost dying at 17. That one definitely takes the cake._ Bonnie flinched in remembrance of the night in the woods. The night she first found out vampires existed.

She grasped her neck and recalled the way it felt to have his fangs so deeply plunged into her flesh, suckling ravenously until she could feel her life slipping away. A searing pain shot right through her body. This was the memory.

Damon observed her present demeanor and knew instantly where her mind had drifted off to. Something inside of him began to crumble at the sight of her so terrified.

No doubt, Stefan and Fiona could hear her thoughs, but he could see them as well. The vision of her laying lifeless at his feet made him cringe with disgust.

Tearing his gaze away from her, he looked to his younger brother. As expected, Stefan's knowing eyes were already fixed on him.

Damon could hear her heartbeat escalating beneath her ribcage. Regaining his composure, he looked into her emerald orbs and waited for her.

"Do you have a particular memory in mind?" Fiona asked, watching the girl.

"I do," she replied, placing her palms together as if to pray.

"Then by all means," the older witch said, gesturing for her to proceed with the spell.

Bonnie closed her eyes and began to chant. _"'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn..."_

The sky began to grumble low. Distress contorted her usually delicate features. Eyebrows scrunched together, she continued with the incantation. _"'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn..."_

Tiny specks of water began to descend from the skies. Bonnie could feel the cool wetness on the tip of her nose at first. Then it turned into a steady stream of droplets. _"Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn..."_

Finally, bucket loads of water came crashing down on them. A loud growl came from the heavens, as the rain soaked them to the bones. Bonnie's greatest moment of fear had evoked a raging storm.

Her eyes may have been shut, but her other senses had become amplified by the rush of empowerment that swept through her. She reluctantly opened one eye at a time and stared straight ahead.

Her gaze was met by the ocean blue orbs belonging to Damon Salvatore. He watched her with a fiery intensity that couldn't even be extinguished by the pouring rain. Her lips began to quiver from the cold and her teeth began to chatter.

"Well I think that's enough magic for one night," Fiona yelled, water dropping down her face. "Perhaps we'd better head back to the house and warm up by the fire."

Too distracted by one another, her suggestion had gone completely unnoticed by Bonnie and Damon. Instead, Stefan was forced to reply for the both of them. "I think that's a great idea. But what about the storm?"

Glancing up again, Fiona shook her head casually. "Oh, it'll last for a few more minutes. Besides, the plants in my garden could use a bit more hydration. Leave it."

Sighing, she glanced suggestively at Stefan. "You know, it is a bit of a trek back to the house and you are pretty fast on your feet..."

Understanding her perfectly, Stefan scooped up the Irish woman and began to run. Finally realizing they were alone together, Damon quickly gathered the petite witch in his arms and moved with such extraordinary speed that she felt as though she might fall right out of his embrace.

He wouldn't let her go though, that much she knew.

***

Bonnie left her drenched clothing on a side chair to continue drying. She was alone in her quarters wearing nothing but a pair of black cotton shorts tiny enough to be labeled 'underwear' and a thin strapped tank top in the same shade.

Her oak wood four poster bed with maroon drapes looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a Julie Garwood romance novel where an innocent young maiden falls for a strong, temperamental baron.

Casting spells certainly could take a lot out of a person, she thought, towel drying her silky raven locks as best as she could. Tonight had certainly done a number on her, so it was a good thing they were about to sit down for a hearty supper of beef stew.

At least she and Fiona would benefit from it. Damon and Stefan had already dined on enough forest creatures today to evoke shock and awe among animal rights activists from coast to coast.

Chuckling at the thought, Bonnie heard a knock at her door. A sudden tingling sensation went down her spine. "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's me," the familiar male voice traveled beyond the wooden barrier. "Can we talk?"

Normally that might seem like such a simple question, but with Damon, it was fully loaded. Being so close to him had always conjured up certain emotions she just wasn't ready to deal with yet. Having him in her sleeping quarters could be dangerous.

Then again, he had already slept in her bed once before.

Grabbing a knee-length black cotton robe off her bed, she threw it on and fastened the belt tightly around her waist. "I'm coming. J-Just a sec."

_Okay Bonnie. Get it together._

Cracking the door open, she looked up at the dark-haired vampire whose present demeanor seemed to reflect complete seriousness. Stepping aside, she allowed him to step inside the cozy room.

"So..." she began, sounding a tad more nervous than she would have preferred. "What's up?"

Damon wondered whether or not he was being absolutely ridiculous for initiating this late night conversation with the witch. He didn't usually do things like this; it just wasn't his style.

He broke the rules, did the rebel yell and let you know about it at every turn. So why the hell did he care if he was responsible for her greatest moment of fear? It's not like he had a conscience...or much of one anyway.

Close proximity was probably to blame for the unexpected batch of emotions his cold, black heart had recently become filled with. He wanted to protect her, care for her, make sure anyone who was out to get her got what was coming to them.

It was slightly reminiscent of the way he had felt about only one other woman. For over 145 years, he had devoted his existence to resurrecting the privileged young woman who had bewitched both him and his brother.

Yet now he had begun to yearn for something entirely different. Her skin. Her lips. Her blood. _All of her._

The sound of her rapidly beating heart was like a symphony for his sensitive eardrums. _Dammit man, restraint!_

"Damon?" he heard her ask softly. Wide-eyed and curious, she stared up at him and waited for a reply.

He shook his head until reality began to set in again.

"Where were you just now?" she questioned him. "You looked like you were a million miles away?

"I just wanted to talk to you...about tonight," he answered.

Chuckling, she began to walk toward the window sill. "Oh, you mean the part where you _didn't_ have to rush into a ring of fire to save me? Yeah, I was pretty thrilled about that too."

_No. I meant the part about me being all the inspiration you needed to provoke a massive rainstorm._

"Are you still scared of me, Bonnie?" The words escaped from his lips before he had intended them to.

The little witch sat comfortably against a maroon pillow by the casement windows. "Do I _look_ scared of you right now?" she inquired, curving her lips into a teasing smirk.

Advancing at light speed to where she rested, Damon sat across from her. "Looks can be deceiving," he replied coolly.

"Well they're not in this case," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"When Fiona asked you to dredge up the most frightening moment of your life, what did you see?" he asked smoothly.

Instantly she remembered the way her hands shot up to protect her neck in the woods. Of course he knew. How could he not?

"You thought of _me_," he said firmly.

"I nearly died that night," she reminded him painfully. "I didn't even know that vampires even existed, much less that they lived in Mystic Falls and my best friend just happened to be dating one. Then _you_ showed up and..."

"And what?"

Fiddling nervously with the bow she had tied on her robe, Bonnie scanned the recesses of her mind to find a way to ditch the sore subject of her near demise. "Do we really have to discuss this tonight?"

"I'd prefer it if we did," he insisted, leaning forward slightly.

"Well I'd prefer it if we _didn't_," she responded, getting up to move.

By the time she was on her feet again, Damon was already standing right in front of her. "Let me pass," she exclaimed.

She was now being blocked by the one person she secretly wanted in spite of everything that had transpired. It was sick, twisted and made her yearn for things so lascivious that you might call her lack of sexual know-how into question.

Bonnie could feel his breath on her forehead like a cool breeze in the night. "We need to talk," he smoothly insisted. "Please?"

"I'm sorry, did I just hear you say _'please?'_" she asked, blinking twice at his sudden display of manners.

Casting her a seductive grin, he tilted his head to the side. "Side effect of being around you, I guess."

"I see," she smiled nervously. "So what other side effects have you been experiencing?"

_Erotic dreams, Sears Tower syndrome, raging blood lust..._

He inhaled the sweet, floral fragrance of her skin and was overwhelmed by a sudden need to turn away. Damon could feel himself beginning to transform. _Loss of control._ That was the other side effect.

It was all symptomatic of something he just couldn't bring himself to admit openly. _He felt for her._

"Just the one," he fibbed. Momentary silence. "Bonnie, you have no reason to fear me. I need you to know that."

She watched as he turned around and began to walk away. "Is that all?" her voice rang out.

"Is what all?"

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" she questioned him. _Stop asking questions, Bennett. Let him leave. Just...stay calm._

_Not really._ "Yup," he replied simply, mustering up a smile for her sake. With that, Damon continued to proceed in the direction of the door.

She chided herself inwardly for wanting to stop him. He _should_ go. Her eyes shifted from his retreating form to full-length mirror at her side.

"Don't go."

He stopped in his tracks. _I should go. _"Dinner's almost ready. We should be heading downstairs soon."

"Dinner can wait," she firmly offered. Taking a deep breath, Bonnie strode toward him until she was finally standing directly behind him. "Why is it that every time I need you, you're always here for me?"

_Because I couldn't stand it if anything ever happened to you. _"Good timing, I guess."

"I don't believe you, Damon."

He liked the way his name sounded as it rolled off her tongue. "You should believe it...it's the truth." _Fucking liar._

"No it's not," she maintained, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Will you just look at me?"

He slowly did as he was asked. Her hair had dried into a loose, tousled mass. Her cheeks had become deliciously flushed crimson and her eyes were wide with purpose.

"What now?" Damon asked uncharacteristically relaxed.

"You hold my hand. You kiss me. You reassure me that everything's gonna be okay. What's going on?"

_Something I never expected. _"I don't know," he sighed.

"You don't believe in The Prophecy, yet you're with me every step of the way," she continued. "I just want to know why?"

Bonnie flinched at the touch of his hand, as he tried to tuck a lock of shiny, dark hair behind her ear. "So now I can't touch you?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"It's _the way _you touch me, Damon." She continued to penetrate his gaze with her own emerald orbs. "I woke up in the middle of the night in Dublin only to find your arms around me."

_Shit. She remembered. _"What do you want me to say, Bonnie?"

"I want you to be honest with me," the witch replied more forcefully. "Do you...is this...what..."

"Do you want me to tell you that I'm _attracted to you?" _he asked bluntly, taking a step toward her. His eyes slowly raked over the length of her body. "Yeah. I am."

He continued. "Do I _crave you? _Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out." Damon's eyes became shadowy.

He continued to advance on her. She followed her first inclination and took a step back. "Damon, I-"

His eyes lingered in on her lips. He could still taste the rich berry blend of her gloss from the night of their first kiss.

"You're beautiful," he admitted, his voice softening. "And I want you. That's the truth."

The little witch blushed profusely and felt a surge of heat rush through her body. She was suddenly all nerves and heart palpitations in his presence.

Damon's hand cupped her cheek and her breath hitched slightly as the back of her knees made contact with the bed.

"You want me too, Bonnie," he hissed into her left ear. "I can hear your heart pounding inside your chest."

She tried to look away, but he persisted. "Say it, Bonnie. Say you want me."

Pressing her hands against his chest, she felt their walls crumbling around them. "I want you," she whispered. "In spite of everything that's happened, I just want _you_."

The vampire tilted his head to the side and began to close the distance between their lips. Bonnie relished the tender, languid movements of his mouth while his hands came to rest on the small of her back.

She wrapped her svelte arms around his neck and felt him begin to deepen the kiss. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip with deliberate slowness. Damon heard her sharp intake of breath and slid inside of her mouth.

She tasted like wild strawberries and sweet cream. Her fragrance captivated him, the warmth of her skin tempered his normally cool disposition and her mouth wreaked havoc on his senses.

Damon couldn't stand it any longer.

Bonnie felt his hands begin to work on the knotted belt of her robe. It came loose within seconds and instantly, his mouth began to roam from her lips to her neck.

He made quick work of dismissing the flimsy fabric and lifted her into his arms. Blue eyes bore into her soul as he watched her silently.

Damon's cool silky lips came crashing down on hers. Their tongues mated with one another in a movement so sensual and ritualistic, that her body felt like it would go up in flames.

The vampire placed her on the mattress and continued to probe each delectable inch of exposed flesh with his lips, tongue and teeth. She felt enraptured and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist.

He suckled on the delicate skin of her throat and allowed his canines to graze the surface. She trembled beneath him as their hips began to oscillate in unison.

Bonnie's fingers became tangled in his mess of raven hair. She felt his lips and hands glide over her still sheathed breasts and gasped. Instantly she arched her back and felt his arousal against her thigh.

He claimed her lips with a ravenous grunt and began to snake his curious, eager hands up underneath her tank top. They kneaded and explored and drove her wild with want.

Exquisitely salty and sweat-slicked. Her skin moved against his in the most erotic rhythm. Bonnie's lips were now pleasantly swollen and her cheeks were stained a bright crimson.

She allowed her hands to roam beneath his dark henley and felt the muscular contours of his back. Her fingertips were on sensory overload and so were her lips.

The little witch trailed kisses along his jaw and shuddered when his hand began to travel below her navel. Bonnie moaned aloud and felt herself losing any semblance of control. "Damon," she breathed.

"I know," he whispered raggedly.

Did he know? Did he have any idea how new this feeling inside was to her?_ My first time. _

He wanted - no, _needed_ - to be inside of her. Damon kept his lips on her skin, as he tugged the straps of her shirt lower.

Desire coursed through his veins like some wild, unrestrained beast. He could feel the veins begin to emerge beneath his eyes.

She gasped suddenly. He looked down at her neck and found a small indentation in her skin. A tiny drop of blood emerged from the minute puncture wound.

"Bonnie," he breathed, horrified by his actions. "I didn't mean to. I swear. I didn't."

Her chest continued to rise and fall quickly, as her frightened expression began to dissipate. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she nodded. "I believe you."

The witch tried to soothe his shock with the warmth of her lips, but he was off of her and standing by the door in seconds. Eyebrows furrowed, he watched her from afar.

"It's okay, Damon," she called out to him. Bonnie began to whip her legs over the side of the bed, but his voice stopped her.

"No. Don't do that!" Damon placed a hand on the door knob.

"It was an accident," she insisted. "I know that." Her shoulders fell and she watched him impassioned, eyes glistening. "Don't you..." _...want me anymore?_

He cringed as the tail end of her thoughts entered his mind. The truth was, he wanted more than anything else in the world to take her in his arms and show her the true extent of his desires.

"You have no idea how much I want to be inside of you right now," he declared fiercely. "I just can't."

Bonnie ignored his demand to stay where she sat and let her feet touch the floor. "Then what are we supposed to do?" she asked him, visibly frustrated.

"Stay away from me." He placed his palm up, hoping she would keep her distance. The fever for her still burned inside of him.

She stopped when his eyes became dark again and took a deep breath. "I'm not afraid, Damon."

"You should be," he replied with greater force than he intended.

"Well I'm not," she maintained, hands braced defiantly on her hips.

She offered him her most determined, challenging gaze and he simply drank in the image of her standing there like an intoxicating liquor.

"We can't, Bonnie." Seeing her so bold and daring made his teeth ache. "I'll lose control. _I can't do that with you._ I _won't_ put you in danger."

Determined to reach him somehow, the little witch proceeded in his direction. His voice became even more agitated. "Stay the hell away from me!"

He exited the room in lightspeed, slamming the door violently behind him. Bonnie stood alone again.

Her heart stopped pounding. It fell. And crumbled. And something inside began to hurt more than ever before.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hi everyone! So let me just start off by saying how completely blown away I was by the amazing reviews I got for chapter 9. Haha, I actually thought you guys might revolt after our twosome got so close to reaching that next level. You guys are incredible and reading your feedback has been a highlight of the experience for me. In fact, it is thee highlight. _

_Now for my first teeny, ridiculous mistake. In writing 20 chapters for this fan fic, I seemed to have forgotten a detail from chapter 9. So proceed as though** Stefan and Elena have not actually been sharing blood**. **He has been blood-free for a while now.** I know. Lame. Really, really lame, lol. That being said, humor me. Please! :D_

_Also, one fantastic reviewer asked about the method to my madness. The truth is, the first ten chapters were posted on Fan Forum. I PM'd them to some of the wonderful ladies and gents there and they gave me the confidence booster to publish it here! So round of applause for them! The remaining chapters I'll be finishing as I go. Chapter 11 will be a real doozy. I promise! _

_I have a big list of thank yous, so here goes! _

**_RockerChick08, IfYouFindThis, Impress, cherry9021, muff, Lily, dollpartsiam, -'.SmxiiWolfyRosie.'-, Fanaddict15, saderia, sandra, ChaneD, Vampire Lover26, IcyScorpio, pnkrchik, KOF, UrbanWitch, babyshan211, fekinLOVEtea, Mrs. SalvatoreBennett, Raqual88, Oracle42 (I love Grams too!), glasvegas, quizas31, Periodic Brilliance, Tamla Salvatore, CGandJaz_**

_Alright, so this chapter marks a significant turning point for our Scooby Gang. It takes the overall storyline forward quite a bit. It'll encourage you to think back to older chapters and to act as an investigator of sorts. I really hope you enjoy it! _

**_Now for my song picks:_**

_"Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung_

_"Starlight" by Muse_

_"On Fire" by Switchfoot_

**Chapter 10: Turning Tides**

Damon Salvatore paced outside her door like a fierce, predatory beast. His chest was heaving and his gaze was shadowy. He fought to keep his killer instincts at bay.

Hands placed on his hips, legs braced apart, he watched the oak barrier and grimaced at the thought of just how easily his teeth had pierced through her delicate flesh. She had looked so horrified by his transformation. Even though that expression lasted for merely seconds, he couldn't shake it from his mind.

Desire had eroded his restraint and unleashed his inner demon. He could still taste the remaining traces of her B positive on his canines. Damon relished its robust Shiraz-like notes with the tip of his tongue.

Her blood was a wicked potion, concocted to drive him completely insane.

_Bonnie_ with her wide eyed innocence, unyielding loyalty and fierce convictions. _Bonnie_ with her luscious lips and that perfect caramel skin, so soft and supple beneath his icy fingertips.

The blue-eyed vampire pressed his palms against the door and allowed his forehead to rest on the smooth surface. Her muffled sobs were enough to cause him pain. _How does she do this to me?_

He growled low and took a step back. Damon ran his fingers through his thick, dark locks and sighed. _I want you so much right now. _

Over the years, he had gone to bed with countless women. Nameless faces. Bodies drained. No regrets. No restraint necessary.

It was different with Bonnie. Hurting her was out of the question. The thought alone made his stomach turn and his handsome features contort with disgust.

The truth was, he had come to feel far more than innate protectiveness for the little witch. He desired her body and coveted the purity of her soul. Was this..._love?_

Damon heard the floorboards creak nearby and turned swiftly in the dimly lit hallway.

"Hello _witch_."

Fiona stood silent for a moment, studying the expression on his face. "Lovers quarrel?" she inquired with a knowing grin.

The vampire rolled his eyes in annoyance. _Stay out of my head, witch._

He tried to brush past her. Placing her palm firmly against his chest, she stared him squarely in the eyes. "I realize you probably think this is none of my business. Under _usual circumstances_, you'd be right. But given the fact that my family's been guarding The Prophecy for over 145 years now, I think I'm more than justified in asking what's been going on between you and Bonnie."

"How _presumptuous_ of you," he replied, cocking his head to one side. "Now _get out of my way_."

"Oh Damon," she sighed, removing her hands from his chest. "I really do apologize."

"For what?"

"For this," she coolly answered.

Nothing could prepare him for the searing pain that shot through his head. Damon was now hunched over, unable to utter a word. Was this some kind of Jedi mind trick, exclusive to witches?

He looked up and found the Irish woman staring back at him, totally unflinching. "Oh what's that Damon? You want me to stop?" she mocked him.

With the flick of her wrist, the agonizing sensation in his nerves receded. _You bitch! I'll kill you! _

She had already anticipated his volatile response.

His hands were inches from her throat when he felt himself being electrocuted by an invisible force field. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you," she instructed him, completely deadpan. "Now keep your voice down. I only want to talk."

"Well I _don't_," he bitterly chewed out.

Fiona knelt down beside him and carefully observed the tormented expression in his eyes. "You want to know why you can't touch her without losing control," she surmised, tapping into his emotions again.

_I told you to-_

"Yes, I remember. _Stay out of my head, witch_," she interrupted, imitating his furious tone.

Grinning at the sight of him so obviously moved, she placed a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. He flinched instantly at her touch. "You're a vampire. She's a witch. It's as simple as that," she began to explain. "Her blood is like_ fine wine _to your palette and you can _never_ seem to get enough."

_Then how, pray tell, are we supposed to have this miracle child?_

Relaxing against the deep brown banister, she sighed. _Bonnie will be your greatest challenge. __For you to be the man she deserves, you must first learn to control your cravings. _

He chuckled lightly. Was she for real? _You're asking me to suppress something that's second nature to my kind?_

_I realize it will be difficult, but we often do the most incredible things for love. _

Damon quirked an eyebrow in her direction. _Who says this is love? _

The witch smirked knowingly. _It will be. _

_Are you always so sure about everything?_

It took her less than a second to reply. _Yes. _

They sat in silence for a moment longer. She could hear the steady stream of thoughts swirling through his mind.

_I'll hurt her._ He shuddered at the idea.

_No, you won't._

Fiona gazed at him in his spellbound state. Bonnie Bennett had truly bewitched the elder Salvatore and he hadn't the slightest idea how to handle that.

For the first time, he looked up at her with desperation in his eyes. _What do I have to do - to control the hunger?_

"That's something you learn over time," his brother's voice chimed in from the staircase.

Excellent. More "time heals all" logic. He had never been a fan of that particular brand of reasoning.

"Well if it isn't _Saint Stefan_," he mused sarcastically. "Reinforcements for _Team Righteous?" _Damon continued, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

"As much as I can appreciate a hefty dose of sarcasm," Fiona began. "Your brother's right."

"He _always is_," Damon replied bitterly.

Disregarding the sibling rivalry, she gestured for Stefan to sit beside them. "Look Damon, Bonnie needs you right now. And try as you might to deny it, _you need her too."_

_I've never needed anyone before. _

"_You do now_," she inserted with a consoling smile. "You two were _preordained_. Elora _wills _it to be."

The blue-eyed vampire glanced at her door again and took a deep breath. Being emotionally vulnerable in front of Stefan and Fiona was out of the question. He already felt naked enough as it was in front of Bonnie.

Damon just couldn't bare his _soul_ the way his little brother did. For starters, people usually dismissed the notion that he even had one.

He was dead. Having a child was a _scientific impossibility_. Yet here he was, with the sudden ability to create life - and he was destined to do it with the little witch.

"I uh...the thing..." Damon Salvatore, typically oozing bravado, was now struggling to verbalize his feelings.

"I never thought..." He paused again. _Whatever you do, try not to sound like Stefan. And remember, no forehead brooding. _

Sensing his reticence to continue, Fiona picked up where he left off. "You never thought you'd get the chance to become a father."

"Never had much of a relationship with _mine_," he admitted, a strained expression marring his features.

"What was he like?" she gently pressed.

Damon and Stefan exchanged glances. Immediately their walls went up. "I don't want to talk about him tonight..._or ever_," he frigidly replied.

The pain was evident in his voice. Giuseppe Salvatore had left an indelible mark on his eldest son's life.

"Never mind then," she smiled reassuringly. "You know, the fates chose you and Bonnie for a reason. All will reveal itself in due time. For now, let's just be grateful for the little miracle Elora has in store for the both of you."

He couldn't quite decide whether having a son would please him more than having a daughter. During the 1800s, it was a general preference among virtually all expectant parents.

For him though, the idea of spoiling his little girl rotten was enough reason to grin like the Cheshire Cat. She would, no doubt, be well schooled in the fine art of 'pranksterism.'

If, on the other hand, he had a son, there would be someone to carry on the Salvatore family name. He would be fiery, bold, self-assured and drop dead gorgeous thanks to a batch of favorable genetics. He smirked mischievously at the thought.

He imagined Bonnie in her pregnant state, belly protruding, green eyes alight with expectation. It was becoming far more difficult to wallow in denial.

"I meant what I said before," Fiona beamed. "Bonnie's a special woman. You should feel _very honored _that the fates saw you as her match."

"_He should_," Stefan agreed with a wide, teasing grin. "One day there'll be a little one running around the boarding house. And _daddy_-"

"-will be _putty_ in their _wee hands_," she gushed, eliciting an irritated groan from the sapphire-eyed vampire.

"I _don't_do diapers," he inserted flatly.

Fiona leaned closer to Stefan. "Make sure you take a picture of him up to his elbows in dirty nappies. We'll need photographic evidence that your _rebel without a cause _brother is actually a _big softy _under that rough exterior."

"_Rough_ exterior?" he scoffed. "Have you seen _me_?"

"Your ego never falters," she laughed.

"No. It only _grows_," Stefan chucked in.

"Alright now," she began, trying to reign in their discussion. "The lights in Bonnie's chamber went out some time ago. She'll need her rest, so let's head downstairs. There's somethin' I've been meanin' to talk to you about all day."

They wound up in the kitchen, huddled around the refrigerator. Fiona carefully opened the door and clutched a large brown paper bag. Placing it gingerly on the counter top, she turned to face the young men.

"Stefan," she started, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know any other way to put this, really. So here goes. When was the last time you drank from a human?"

"It's been ages," he began to explain. "Not since...1905, I think."

"Yeah. The last year he was any fun to hang out with," Damon threw in casually.

"_Behave_," Fiona huffed. She turned her attention back to the brown-eyed teen. "My darling, you will need _all the strength you can muster _when facing The Three. They were chosen for their posts because they are _the most powerful warlocks of their clan_. Each Lord possesses his own dagger. It is only by those silver blades that they may perish."

Reaching into the bag, she pulled out four full pint sacks of blood. "I have a friend in town who happens to be a phlebotomist," she continued. "I'm well aware of how significant a moral dilemma this is for you, Stefan. But I _will not _have you fighting The Fior on a half-assed diet of field mice and deer. The strength that you require _cannot_ be derived from animals."

"Here," Fiona tossed Damon two pouches filled with red fluid. "Drink up."

Her green eyes lingered on the younger man. "You must do this for _Elena_. It's the _only way _to save her, Stefan."

For over a hundred years he had avoided human blood. Its scent. _Its flavor._

Everything about it was simply intoxicating...and _highly addictive. _

How could he risk the possibility of relapsing and never being able to ween himself off of it? Then again, how could he _not_ do everything in his power to save the only woman he had ever _truly loved?_

Damon watched in awe as his brother reached out and grasped one of the sacks. Stefan stared at the crimson liquid and felt his gums itch in anticipation.

Tiny yellow veins sprung up beneath his hazelnut eyes. His canines slid into place, ready to feed.

He didn't wait for Fiona to pass him a pair of scissors to slice open the plastic, nor did he pause for a straw with which to slurp every ounce of fluid from the pouch. He simply tore through the seal with his teeth and lifted it to his mouth.

It coated his esophagus like a thick, sweet syrup. _There was no turning back._

He would have to live with the consequences of his actions - if only to save Elena.

***

Damon sat in a brown cracked leather armchair by the roaring fireplace. Fiona had already finished cleaning up the kitchen and Stefan had since retreated to the comfort and silence of his quarters.

The Irish witch observed him from the bay window where she sat against a mound of pillows clutching a copy of Anne Rice's "Merrick."

"Penny for your thoughts," she offered softly.

"Why offer _anything at all?" _he began. "We both know you can hijack them for free."

"Touche," she remarked. Momentary silence. "Still thinking about The Child, I see."

_So what is it that makes this kid **the one true hybrid? **There are already witch-fairy, witch-werewolf combos stalking the streets everyday._

"Well unlike witches, fairies or weres, vampires have never been able to procreate before," she began to explain. "This type of hybrid is _very unique._ Your son or daughter will possess powers only heard of in myths, Damon."

"Elora wills it to be," Fiona continued. "The child represents a _beacon of hope _for the future between Supernaturals and mortals."

"Powers only heard of in myths, huh? What about _immortality?" _he queried.

"It's not a guarantee," the witch offered. "Regenerative powers, perhaps. Bonnie's foresight - now that's a _definite possibility_. Superhuman strength - pretty much a certainty."

"Sounds like _trouble_," Damon chuckled.

"From _your side of the family_, no doubt," Fiona giggled. "I'd say beauty, grace and courage from mum's side."

"What, no beauty from _mine?" _he cheekily grinned.

"Why hello there, _Damon's ego!" _Fiona began imitating her best beauty pageant wave.

She observed him thoughtfully for a long while as the firelight crackled and flickered against his pale skin. Every sentence that passed through his brain seemed to begin or end with _'Bonnie.' _

Damon looked up at her again. "Something's happening to me."

"I can see that," she smiled warmly.

"I can see her thoughts...her dreams. It's been happening ever since..."

"...that night in the woods," she finished. "That's what you get for_ being greedy_. It's called a _'blood bond_.' Vampires and witches have always been able to communicate telepathically - usually through words or phrases that pass through each other's minds. Your bond with Bonnie allows you to gain access to her most intimate thoughts, fantasies and dreams."

"She's not fully telepathic yet," he pointed out.

"I can tell," she admitted. "Soon enough. Her powers are growing at an accelerated pace. It'll happen any day now. Mark my words."

"I'll hold you to that," he exclaimed. "So, this _blood bond..."_

"Yes, it helps with the _initial attraction_," Fiona offered. "But if you're wonderin' whether magic is what's makin' you_ pine _for the lass, the answer is _no_. You do that _all on your own."_

***

The musty aroma of old books filled their nostrils. They congregated in a dimly lit nook inside the Mystic Falls Archives.

Tonight The Council had several important matters to tend to. Just yesterday, another batch of bodies had shown up in the woods near Old Fell's Church. Half of the six had been completely drained of blood; the others had been ripped to shreds.

The town coroner was already putting in countless hours of overtime piecing together the circumstances of their deaths.

Unfortunately, Mayor Lockwood couldn't be present tonight. He was "under the weather," according to his devoted wife, who looked _Stepford Wife_-pretty in an ultra-feminine white floral dress.

"Bodies have been drained and savagely torn apart. It can only mean _one thing_," Eleanor Fell offered. Crimson curls, a flawless creamy complexion and big brown eyes gave her a rather child-like appearance, despite her 31 years of life experience.

Sheriff Forbes chaired the gathering in the Mayor's stead. She knew it was going to be intense. How could it not be when so much violence had come to pass in only a few days.

"The Supernatural presence in Mystic Falls is growing," she announced. "And to make matters worse, we have reason to believe a third group may be living among us."

"Who?" Godrick Marsh questioned the uniformed officer.

"I'd rather not speak about that _just yet._ My team is currently in the midst of an investigation," she replied. "I'll have the details ready soon. Which brings me to the next order of business. _The list."_

"You're really going ahead with the blacklist?" Annabelle Smallwood chimed in.

"I don't see what other choice we have," Sheriff Forbes maintained.

"What does Mayor Lockwood say?" Mr. Marsh inquired, brows furrowed in hesitance and concern. "Has he _already_ signed on to this little display of _raging McCarthyism?"_

"It's not McCarthyism," she insisted.

"No, it just wreaks of_ McCarthyism_," the young Smallwood woman agreed. "I'm with Godrick. Why should we resort to such divisive, harmful tactics. You're playing with _people's lives_."

"Why so reticent, _Annabelle?" _Mrs. Lockwood chucked in. "Do _you_ have something to hide?"

Rolling her eyes at the fashionably attired brunette, the petite blond shook her head in dismay. "No Dayna, I don't. Do _you?"_

"This is ridiculous," Eleanor Fell remarked. "Could you two please _stop bickering at one another?"_

"Ellie's right," Elizabeth Forbes exclaimed. "We should be focusing all our energies on the Supernaturals. Lord knows things are getting dangerous out there. I already have one plain clothes officer on the missing list down at the station."

Each descendant of the founding families looked nervously at one another. They were there, at the fine line between rationality and blind protectionism.

"It's the only way to know who we're up against," the Sheriff insisted. "I spoke with the Mayor about it last night. He's agreed to take charge of the list. That means he gets final say over whose name gets added to it. I'll keep logs of information on each suspected Supernatural. For now, we'll need a vow of _absolute silence _from each one of you. Word _cannot_ spread that we're doing this."

"Do you have anyone in mind as yet?" Annabelle inquired.

Elizabeth gulped. "Yes. It pertains to the investigation I mentioned earlier. We've been watching someone..._a woman_. We just need more proof. It's out there, I know it is."

***

Damon had insisted on joining her that morning. Bonnie had planned a little small town Ireland excursion. _Stop #1: Kenmare Library._

She sat rifling through piles of old books on local ancient witching legends and the history of Kenmare. Her blue-eyed protector sat beside her clutching the latest copy of _NME_.

"You know, I'll never understand your generation's _warped_ taste in music," he chuckled. "Then again, a bunch of scantily-clad women writhing around on stage definitely makes it more...digestible."

"Would you stop staring at Beyonce like that?" she replied. "You'll burn a hole in that magazine and then we'll both get into trouble for damaging library property."

"Oh yeah? With whom?" he chuckled. "_Wee Mrs. Doyle _in her grey cardigan and matching pleated skirt? Oh yes, 83-year-old women scare the _Bejesus _out of me."

Bonnie smacked him hard on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he yelped, feigning hurt.

Mrs. Doyle looked up from her copy of "The Fine Art of Crochet" and swiftly pointed at the orange sign beside her that read: _Silence is golden._

"See what you did?" Damon whispered into the little witch's ear. "_You_ got us into trouble."

"Ugh," she groaned. "Don't talk to me."

"Fine," he smirked, nudging his chair closer to hers. Bonnie shifted her weight to the opposite end of her seat in response.

"Anyway," she whispered. "How do you even know she's 83?"

_Because she's sitting there, not really reading that boring-ass book on crochet, thinking 'God, I hate being 83.' _

"Just a guess," he grinned. Leaning in closer, he whispered into her ear. "So what ever happened to that plan of yours?"

"What plan?"

"The one where you stop talking to me," he smiled, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"It starts _now_," she furiously replied.

Bonnie turned her attention back to the encyclopedic-length book before her. Flipping through the tan color pages, her eyes were immediately drawn to a particular entry:

_The Druids' Circle - Kenmare, Ireland_

_This impressive stone formation dates back to the Bronze Age and is located relatively close to Kenmare itself. Fifteen stones surround one large boulder. The circle measures seventeen meters in diameter and is believed by some locals to be a sacred site for the Druids._

_There are no documents or archaeological findings to define its purpose, but many suppose it was a site where ceremonies were performed. There are also those who believe it was used as a calendar, burial place or sacrificial site._

Anticipation sprung from the pit of her stomach. She felt such an inexplicable connection to the site. Somehow, some way, Bonnie had the strangest feeling she would find herself standing at the center of those stones.

Suddenly an eerie, ominous sensation crept up on her. An icy chill ran along her smooth skin. She swiveled her neck - and found Damon reading the open book over her shoulder.

"Do you _mind?" _she bit out.

"No, not really." Placing his hands on her slender shoulders, he whispered into her ear. "I'm running off to the little boy's room. Think you can behave while I'm gone?"

"I'm not a child, Damon." Of course he knew that; he just enjoyed getting a rise out of her to no end.

She looked so damn sexy whenever she was mad at him - sexier still when she was hot for him. He licked his lips at the thought of her flawless caramel skin beneath his pale fingertips.

Bonnie watched him saunter away, jutting his hips from side to side on purpose for her viewing pleasure. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

Why did he have to be such a good kisser and such a big ass in one fell swoop? She rose from her seat and began organizing the cluttered mess of literature on the table.

One by one, she returned them to their rightful homes in the stacks. When the final book was in place, Bonnie leaned against the richly hued wooden shelf and took a deep breath in.

Her mind drifted back to the previous night.

His hands and lips had roamed over every inch of exposed flesh. Their hips moved rhythmically against one another. Her heart beat like a drum inside her chest.

It felt so good whenever he was near. It felt so awful whenever he pulled away.

Bonnie looked up again and found a pair of sapphire eyes staring back at her. "Fancy doing it in a library?" he smirked, cupping her cheek.

"Not. Funny." Bonnie stalked off, furious that he could still joke about sex when they had come so close to taking the plunge last night.

Damon reached out and grabbed her arm. She was then flung into his embrace. Allowing his back to rest against the shelf, he brought her down with him.

One hand splayed at the small of her back, the other caressing her cheek, the vampire pressed his cool, velvety lips against her forehead. She felt her defenses wearing thin with him in such close proximity again.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"Not a chance," he replied. "Not until you hear me out."

"Why should I?" she bitterly responded, trying to avoid his heated gaze.

Damon pressed his forehead against hers. They were chest to chest. Breath to breath. And it made her knees buckle.

"You know how I feel," he whispered. "_I want you._ I said it last night and it's as true this morning as it was then."

"_I _wasn't the one who _pulled away_," she pointed out.

"I _didn't _want to hurt you," he maintained, brushing aside a rebellious lock of dark hair from her cheek.

He allowed his fingers to trail down the side of her neck and felt the tiny indentation his tooth had left behind. It had already begun to heal.

Bonnie shivered in response. "I don't wanna fight with you, Damon. We've got enough on our plates as it is with The Fior."

Taking a moment to inhale her sweet fragrance, the vampire placed his palms supportively on the sides of her face. "I _suppose_ we can call a truce," he whispered. "_For now_."

"_For now?"_

"You look _incredibly sexy _when you're mad, you know that?"

Bonnie reached out, ready to smack him on the forearm when his lips came crashing down on hers. It was a passionate kiss, filled with long-repressed desires they should have been unleashing in a bedroom as opposed to a public library.

Damon backed her up against the shelf and began trailing his cool, wet lips across her throat. He tugged at the ribbon on her black wrap sweater and growled low as it came loose.

His hands explored beneath the fabric of her dark camisole, while his mouth ravaged every trace of supple brown skin. The little witch reached beneath his crisp button-down shirt and felt every delicious contour of his chiseled abdomen.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned involuntarily as his tongue found hers. The vampire laced his fingers together with hers and felt her hips begin to grind against his. It was enough to make his blood boil - _in the best way possible._

"Come on daddy, let's find _Winnie The Pooh!" _a young voice declared enthusiastically nearby.

"Damon-" Bonnie breathed raggedly. "Someone's coming."

"You've got _that_ right," he smirked mischievously.

"No, you pervert!" she replied, rolling her green eyes.

She sighed contentedly as his lips brushed across hers in a featherlight stroke. Reluctantly, he allowed her feet to touch the floor again. "This isn't over, little witch," he grinned.

Bonnie fumbled with the flimsy ribbon. Damon stood casually braced against the stacks, pretending to read up on one hundred of the greatest sonnets ever composed. She quickly plucked a random novel from the shelf.

He read the title aloud: _"A Guide To Spirited Sex." _Damon snorted. "Why read _that_ when you've got _me?"_

She was now officially fire engine red. The little "Pooh"-seeking tyke stood five feet from them with his shocked father.

Bonnie shoved the book back onto the shelf and yanked the handsome vampire in the direction of the seating area.

"I'm starving. How 'bout some lunch, _pookie?" _he teased.

"Ugh, whatever. _You're_ paying," she laughed.

"Well _naturally," _he stated confidently.

"Chivalry _lives_," she laughed. Momentary pause. "Well...sort of."

The vampire swung his arm possessively around the witch's waist and offered Mrs. Doyle a parting wink.

***

Another stick to your ribs stew with carrots, potatoes and thick cut pieces of lamb. Bonnie sopped up the sauce with a chunk of fresh baked bread. Not only were the drinks gigantic at Murphy's; the meals were too.

Damon watched her down the contents of the bowl in light speed and was instantly impressed. For such a pint-sized woman, she had an immense appetite. He liked that about her.

Their morning had certainly been entertaining. First there was an awkward drive into town. She had been absolutely furious. He could hear it in her cutting tone of voice and see it in her mind whenever she envisioned slapping him hard across the face.

The real big upside? Nearly getting it on in the stacks, of course. He licked his lips in fond remembrance.

His gaze lingered on her beautiful face as she sat across from him. He wanted to take her right here, right now.

First he would lick the tiny dot of sauce from the corner of her lip. Then he'd kiss every last one of her inhibitions away. And finally, he'd rip off her clothes, clear the table and have his way with her in front of every single patron.

His fiery thoughts were halted by the expression on her face. She looked fraught with worry and uncertainty. Clearly, she was thinking about Elena again.

"Did you dream about her again?"

Bonnie looked up. "Who?"

"Elena," he supplied.

"No." Her shoulders slumped and her eyes became watery. "We have to find her soon, Damon. When I saw her in my vision, she looked so...so..." Her voice trailed off then.

Damon reached out and caressed her cheek. She relished in his nearness. "We'll find her, Bonnie."

Sighing, the little witch struggled to regain her composure. _Stay strong for Elena. You have to. You **will** save her. That's all there is to it. _

As she lifted her gaze, the little witch found her attention drawn to a color photograph of the town. Everything looked just as it should. Vibrantly hued buildings, closely situated. Quaint shops, pubs and restaurants lining the narrow streets.

She marveled momentarily at the accuracy of her dream. Murphy's was right where she had imagined it would be. So was the church with its far reaching steeple. The ancient wall dividing the downtown core from the woods was there too.

Her brows scrunched in confusion at one missing feature. "That's strange," she remarked, biting into the warm bread. "No ruins."

"What ruins?" Damon asked, spoonfeeding himself some of the piping hot stew.

"From the dream I told you and Stefan about," she continued, eyes fixed on the framed picture. "It was there..._just beyond the wall_. There were these great arches. It felt so...real." She paused for a moment. "Guess I was wrong. I mean, I wasn't exactly right about this place," she shrugged.

Bonnie began to wonder if her instant connection to the Stone Circle was all for naught as well. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the overwhelming suspicion that there was far more to the site than what was written in books or on web pages.

There was an energy flowing through Kenmare. She had felt it the moment they hopped off the bus in the middle of the night.

"What are you thinking about?" Damon asked, already knowing full well where her mind had veered off to.

"Just that place I was reading about," she answered, taking a sip of orange juice. "People call it the _Druids' Circle_."

"Your Spidey senses tingling?" he queried with a smirk.

"Maybe just a little," she grinned. "Or a lot." Bonnie paused. "I just feel like the air is rife with magic here. And that Stone Circle is a key to something."

"Like what?" he wondered aloud, weaving his fingers through hers.

"I can't be sure," she began. "Whatever it is, it's big. I just know it."

Bonnie rose from her seat and felt his arm slide around her waist. "I have to go to the bathroom, Damon."

"Can I come with?" he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"No," she replied, pinching him on the arm.

He got out of his seat and placed a searing kiss on her lips. Bonnie's cheeks flushed bright crimson. "Can't wait 'til you get back," he smoothly offered.

The little witch buried her face in his chest and allowed her arms to encircle him. "This feels really good," she whispered, almost breathless.

Bonnie excused herself and ventured off in the direction of the ladies room. She followed an emerald green sign to the back of the pub and found herself standing in a brick walled hallway.

The women's bathroom door had been painted the hue of rich, ripe cherries. She chose a stall and locked the door. Unbuttoning her jeans, she sat on the white porcelain and looked up.

It was either one big coincidence...or something more. Hanging from the bathroom door was a tourism poster with a photograph, showcasing the aerial view of the _Druids' Circle._ The caption along the bottom read _'Just a hop, skip and a jump away.'_

Bonnie's heartbeat began to quicken.

She made quick work of washing her hands. The witch hurried back to her seat. Unaware of just how zoned out she looked, Bonnie finally stirred when she felt Damon's chilly fingertips running along the delicate skin of her arms.

"Can we go for a drive somewhere?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him.

"Mmmm," he began, planting a kiss on her hand. "Roadtrip? Where to?"

Bonnie blushed profusely. Her _v-card _was splintering into pieces. _She could feel it. _

She took a deep breath in. "The Stone Circle."


	11. Chapter 11

_Hey everyone, I know it's been a little while. Sorry for the wait! Anyway, I just want you all to know that from here on out, I'll be updating on a weekly basis instead of every couple of days. Life has gotten pretty busy and this story definitely takes a while to proofread. Like I've mentioned before, I'm my own beta, so that's part of the reason why I'll be updating like this from now on. _

_Anyway, I really want to thank every single reader out there who has clicked on this link, commented or done both. You guys make this story worth writing. I take every one of your comments to heart, so please keep on letting me know what you think! _

_So I know TVD came back last night, so big round of applause everyone! On the other hand, I'm still a little miffed that Bonnie is MIA for the next couple of episodes. Seriously, TVD needs her back on the canvas! _

_Sooooo, let this be your Bonnie fix for the week. :D Also, I really must give a shout-out to the fine folks I post with over at Fan Forum in the D&B thread. You guys are amazing and I know I've forced you to wait even longer for chapter 11, so enjoy this! My song picks are listed below, with one fantastic entry from Periodic Brilliance - "Devil's Dance Floor" by Flogging Molly. _

_Also, this chapter is named after a Coldplay song. It's listed below. Love them! _

_Enjoy guys! _

"Devil's Dance Floor" by Flogging Molly

"Careful Where You Stand" by Coldplay

"Broken" by Lifehouse

**Chapter 11: Careful Where You Stand**

Gently swelling hills the hue of sage stretched out on either side of the grey Corolla as it worked its way around twists and turns in the country road. Cream colored clouds were scattered softly across the powder blue canvas of sky.

It was a calming vision, in such stark contrast to the heated string of emotions that dwell inside Bonnie Bennett's ferociously beating heart. The fist-sized organ battered her ribcage mercilessly, pulsating in time with the tune blaring from the speakers.

The spirited whistle of an Irish flute melded with the boisterous backdrop of heavy-handed drumming and raging guitars so characteristic of full-on, rebellious punk. Damon had turned the volume up to a level so loud, it bordered on obnoxious.

If there was one thing she was absolutely certain of at this very moment, it was the fact that she was in for one crazy ride with Damon Salvatore.

Being in such close proximity to him could be off-putting and frightening at times; it was also exhilarating...and _pleasantly scandalous._

She deeply inhaled the unrivaled perfume of mother nature. It was cool and invigorating - and devoid of the pollutants she recalled filling her nostrils on her last visit to a major city.

A teasing grin slowly spread across her luscious lips at the sound of Damon's off-key rendition of 'Devil's Dance Floor' by Flogging Molly. She had to give it to him, though. He may not have been blessed with smooth vocal chords, but there was certainly no shortage of enthusiasm on his part.

His arms flailed from side to side, though every few seconds he allowed his hands to grip the steering wheel so they wouldn't end up plummeting into a ditch amidst his impromptu musical performance.

Bonnie giggled like a school girl at first, but panicked after colliding head first into his taut shoulder. Damon Salvatore was not a fan of speed limits and if anyone dared to call that into question, they obviously had never been on a road with him before in their life.

He tapped the wheel and flashed her a wicked, knowing smile. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

"Maybe you should turn down the music first," she suggested, smiling uneasily.

"Not a chance," he replied, playfully smacking her hand away from the volume knob. "_This_ is the way _all_ music should be enjoyed."

"_Loud?_" She folded her arms over her chest and watched as a mischievous smirk settled on his uncommonly handsome face.

"But of course," he concluded, lacing his fingers through hers. "And with a _hot witch sitting beside to you._"

Bonnie blushed profusely, rolling her eyes in response. "Always the smooth talker."

Quirking an eyebrow playfully in her direction, the vampire recklessly rounded another bend in the road. "And _you love it._"

She had always been the dutiful friend. Then there was the well-behaved daughter and granddaughter routine. Perfection personified.

Yet somehow, someway, Damon Salvatore had managed to unleash a sense of fearlessness from within her. Perhaps that was the bulk of his allure...apart from the obvious drop-dead gorgeous genetics that definitely led to a series of overwhelming heart palpitations.

So much could be seen in a person's eyes if you only took the time to really observe them. They were the gateway to the soul. At least that's what Grams had reiterated time and time again.

She said that as cliched as the statement was, there was more than just a fragment of truth to it. Witches believed it with every fiber of their mystical beings.

You could gauge truthfulness, love and deceit, all by peering with care into the orbs of the one you seek. Needless to say, Damon's piercing blue eyes were enough on their own to induce any woman - young or old - into a state of utter lust and longing.

Bonnie clutched the red amulet that dangled from her brass necklace. Her cinnamon hued trench coat was belted tightly at the waist, showcasing the magnificent curvature of her shape. Her dark wash skinny jeans and blue suede ballet flats completed the casual, yet slightly tailored look.

She glanced sideways at the vampire beside her. He was such a classically beautiful man. His chiseled jawline and clean shaven exterior had been prominent features of her dreams for the past couple of weeks.

Of course, there were other _more prominent_ features of him that also happened to appear, but this wasn't the time to be thinking about sex with Damon Salvatore.

They were on a mission and that meant _no distractions_...no matter how enticing the idea of pulling over to the side of the road and losing her virginity to him on the grass, in Ireland, beneath a clear blue sky was.

Her heart was inflamed, but not just by the sinful thoughts swirling through her brain. Anxiety and expectation over the Stone Circle were brewing inside of her.

Damon whipped around another corner, causing her body to jerk forward this time. "Could you please _slow down?_" she yelped.

_Please let me arrive alive. Please let me arrive alive. Please let me..._

"Listen, I know _you and Stefan_ don't have to sit around contemplating your own mortality anymore, but some of us _do still have a pulse_," she reiterated for the second time on their little road trip.

She gripped his forearm tightly with both hands and glued herself to his body. _Please don't let me go flying through the windshield._

"I like it when you get close," he whispered seductively into her ear.

The feel of his cool breath as it tickled the sensitive skin along her neck made tiny goosebumps appear. She leaned in closer, allowing her head to rest on his muscular shoulder.

Damon gladly inhaled the lavender fragrance of her hair. He pressed his lips against the luminous locks and snaked his free arm possessively around her waist.

"Guess it's safe to say you no longer hate me with _the fire of a thousand suns,_" he grinned, his typical combo of smarmy 'n' smolder returning.

"Who said that?" She tilted her head and stared into his penetrating blue gaze.

"Oh, _just some douche with a brooding forehead_," he chuckled, remembering how adamant his brother had been that he and Bonnie could not have been the chosen two Tabitha wrote about in her journal.

"You mean _your brother?_" she replied, stifling the immediate desire to burst into laughter.

Sibling rivalries could be painful, hilarious and incredibly time consuming. Just ask the Salvatore brothers. They also just happened to be highly entertaining.

"Make fun of him all you want," she teased. "But beneath that exterior of yours, I'd be willing to bet a million bucks _you genuinely care for him._"

"Then consider yourself a million bucks_ poorer_," he chuckled.

"Geez, you'd think 146 years would be enough time to teach you how to become a better actor. You're an awful liar - especially when you're lying to _me_," she playfully replied, sticking her tongue out at him in jest.

"_Me? Dishonest?_" he queried, feigning complete innocence. "I'm a little boyscout, remember."

"Pity then," she replied with a regretful sigh.

"Why is that?" he inquired, cocking his head to one side.

Twirling a dark lock of hair around her finger, she gazed sinfully into his eyes. "'Cause I sort of have a thing for bad boys. _Know where I can find one?_"

Damon brought the car to a screeching halt at the side of the road and quickly silenced the engine. If the fire burning in his eyes wasn't a solid indication of the desire she had stoked inside of him, then perhaps she should glance lower - _precisely where his thighs met._

Before she could utter another syllable, let alone a full sentence, his lips plundered hers with the intensity of a volcanic eruption. She tasted sweeter than he remembered, a glorious culmination of berries, cream and butterscotch skin.

Her mouth was soft and pliant against his own. She moaned involuntarily, as his tongue slid across her lips, teasing, taunting and tearing her restraint to shreds.

Her fingers were entwined in his thick midnight locks. She smiled against his mouth when he raggedly whispered her name. _"Bonnie..."_

She loved the way it sounded as it rolled languorously off his tongue. It slid inside of her so effortlessly, wreaking havoc on her senses.

Bonnie craned her neck to one side, granting him greater access to the delicate expanse of skin. He tensed up immediately, eyes fixed on the healing puncture wound he had made the night before.

She placed her palm reassuringly against his cheek and kissed him tenderly. "It's okay. You won't hurt me."

Damon rained butterfly kisses along her jawline, gradually making his way toward her neck. She felt his lips, cold and velvety against her pulse point, suckling and nibbling gently.

The constant motion elicited another desirous moan from the little witch. Bonnie felt him pull away for a moment and stared up at him.

He was gazing at her with a look she had never seen in his eyes before. It even went beyond the possessive, predatory way he had watched her dancing in the arms of Matt Donovan.

It aroused her. It excited her. _And it made her wonder..._

Her chest rose and fell beneath his. The erratic pulsation of her heart seemed to grow louder and more furious. It was almost painful now.

Bonnie felt an overwhelming warmth gather at her chest. "Damon-" she groaned leaning against his chest now. "There's..."

"What's the matter?" he breathed, caressing her cheek with one hand.

"Something's wrong. Something's-" Her eyes widened at the sight of the red amulet flickering against her caramel skin.

Damon reached out to grasp it. Bonnie smacked his hand swiftly aside. "Don't touch it!" she shrieked. "Don't you remember what happened _the last time you touched a witch's talisman?_"

_Good point._ He could still feel the intense bolts of electricity as they seared the pale flesh of his palms.

It instantly rekindled memories of Emily Bennett and her broken promise. She may have been Bonnie's ancestor, but he still possessed a deep desire to ring her neck 'til her vision went blurry, her face turned blue and her pulse stopped.

Then again, she was also partially responsible for The Prophecy. It was _her blood_ that tied the Bennetts to The Child. His child. _Their child._

He watched as Bonnie placed the tips of her fingers cautiously on the ruby red stone. She slowly closed her eyes. He watched as her brows became furrowed and her forehead became creased.

Damon placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bonnie?"

Her eyelids flew open. "We're getting close. _I can feel it._"

"How?" he asked, coaxing her chin up to look him directly in the eyes.

"It's hard to explain," she began.

"Try."

"Because _every_ fiber of my being tells me so," she offered. "It's _swimming_ beneath the trees. _Charging_ every blade of grass."

"What is it?"

"_Energy_, Damon."

They sped off again in the direction of The Stone Circle, the red amulet still aglow. He could hear her heart battering her ribcage with its weight.

Her chest heaved every now and then. She gasped loudly, but urged him to continue. _They needed to get to the stones._

Yellow signs to their left seemed to suggest her vision had been right. They were very close.

Gradually a small white structure came into view. It resembled a quaint bungalow you might find nestled in The Shire. The sign beside it read: _Information booth. Please pay admission fee inside._

"Fuck that," Damon snapped, bringing the car to an abrupt stop by the side of the road.

Within seconds he had leaped from his seat and was now by the little witch's side. Lifting her now frail form gently into his arms, the vampire held her close and began to run.

He moved with such swiftness, Bonnie found herself gripping the collar of his leather jacket even tighter. Branches and bristles brushed painfully against her skin as he moved through a thick cluster of woods.

She winced and immediately felt his arms tighten, pulling her even closer to shield her with his body. Bonnie peered up at the open sky and watched it begin to turn a murky, ominous shade of grey.

Soaring tree tops were all around as she continued to feel her body jerk from side to side. The wind howled around them, whipping Damon violently in the face as he raced onward.

Dizziness was setting in. She was certain this situation would result in her being hunched over on the grass, puking up the contents of her lunch.

Bonnie closed her eyes tightly to keep the nausea at bay for as long as she possibly could. She felt the vibration of his chest as he growled deeply.

Then it all stopped. Damon held her still for a moment so her head would stop spinning before her feet hit the grass.

Slowly and with a great deal of reluctance, he began to ease her out of their intimate embrace. Bonnie groaned against his muscular shoulder, as he held her upright.

"You alright there?" he asked, rubbing steady, reassuring circles on her back.

"Mmmhmm," she softly replied, still sounding a tad disoriented. "Just give me a sec."

_Inhale 1,2,3. Exhale 1,2,3. Alright Bonnie, you're both here. Now figure out what it is about this place that makes you feel like you're having a goddamn heart attack!_

She turned gradually in his embrace and found herself face to face with the ancient site.

It was enclosed by an assemblage of trees. Fifteen stones stood in a circular formation. There at the center, was the central boulder, mounted atop small rocks.

She reached behind and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. Damon leaned forward and pressed his cool lips gingerly against her warm neck.

Magic lived here and it galvanized every Supernatural instinct of hers to the point of sensory overload. Unfastening his arms from around her waist, Bonnie cautiously approached the circle.

Not a camera-toting tourist was in sight. Not even the caretakers stirred. Thank goodness for small blessings, Bonnie sighed.

She pressed her palm against a frigid stone and shuddered in response. The wind had begun to pick up again. It whirled around her like a vortex enclosing her in its midst.

It wasn't difficult to imagine sacred rituals being performed on this particular patch of land. Something Supernatural flowed beneath their feet and it was greater than anything else she had ever felt before.

Bonnie sauntered toward the large boulder. She paused mere inches from it, examining its rough, cold exterior with her fingertips.

The petite witch closed her eyes and attempted to channel the flow of energy. _"Faigh an fuinneamh laistigh de dom. Show me, Elora, cad a chiallaíonn sé go léir."_

Damon watched as her luminous raven locks swirled rebelliously around her exquisite face. Her shoulders were relaxed, arms gracefully positioned as if to pray. _Bonnie looked and sounded like a Queen._

She remained still for what seemed like an eternity. The blue-eyed vampire was by her side in seconds. He placed his hand firmly on her shoulder and watched as her eyelids flew open.

There was something particularly _off _about the Bonnie Bennett he now stood face to face with. The moss green of her irises had somehow gone cornflower blue.

She stared hypnotically ahead. "Bonnie?" Damon's hands were braced on her forearms, shaking her lightly. Nothing.

"Bonnie, what's wrong?" he persisted. She didn't even blink.

Damon glanced down at the amulet and noticed it had stopped flickering. She lifted her arms into the air and began to chant repeatedly.

_"Elora Oh! Trí gréine agus gealach, spás agus an am. I beseech tú. Oscail na geataí! Elora Oh! Trí gréine agus gealach, spás agus an am. I beseech tú. Oscail na geataí! Elora Oh! Trí gréine agus gealach, spás agus an am. I beseech tú. Oscail na geataí!"_

The earth began to rumble beneath his feet. He could still hear Bonnie crying out, beseeching Elora to open a gate of some kind.

There was the mention of sun and moon. Then space and time. Whatever she was shouting, it seemed to be working.

Her sonorous cries were gradually drowned out by an ear-splitting screech. Instinctively, the vampire shielded his ears with his hands.

Violet electrical currents beamed out from the surrounding stones and gathered directly above the central boulder. They swirled together, mirroring the image of a giant whirlpool, threatening to consume all who lingered near.

Then, without warning, the mass of energy collided with the rock, sending a wave of power rippling across the expanse of field and trees. Everything in its path flailed backward like the a succession of carefully placed domino chips, tipped off by some instigating force.

He watched as Bonnie struggled to maintain her balance. Damon rushed forth, trying to reach the little witch, hoping he could free her from whatever state of entrancement had a hold on her.

The vampire made it only four feet closer when he was confronted by the skin blistering shock of an invisible force field. Whatever was inhabiting Bonnie's body at this moment didn't want him near. It needed to complete the spell that had already been set in motion.

"Bonnie!" he shouted, feeling helpless for the first time in his afterlife.

_No. No! You have to break the seal. Break the fucking seal!_

Gathering every ounce of courage, he charged at the barrier with all the strength he could muster. He could hear the sizzle of his flesh against the fierce heat and screamed like he had never screamed before in his existence.

_Nothing had ever hurt like this._ The possibility of losing her suddenly became real. Who knew what dark force lingered within her and just what it intended to do.

"Bonnie, hold on!" he yelped, groaning against the sheer physical torture of it all. "I'm...I'm coming!"

A bright flash of purple light erupted from the core of circle. The force field had disappeared within seconds and all that was left behind was a colossal plume of smoke.

Damon felt his body's regenerative properties stir to life again. His singed flesh began to slowly heal as he stumbled through the mist to find her. "Bonnie!" he bellowed, now unable to contain the fear and anger inside of him.

Then, from out of the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed a red light. It flickered beneath a thin sheath of dissipating smoke. He rushed toward it and gasped at the sight of her diminutive body lying lifeless on the grass.

Scooping her up into his strong arms, Damon cradled her like a wounded bird. He could still feel a tinge of warmth circulating through her.

Her heart was still beating, but faintly. "Bonnie?"

The need to nurse her back to health overwhelmed him. _She couldn't die. She had to live._

Damon held her securely with one arm and brought his wrist to his lips. Distress and anxiety had already coaxed his transformation.

Thin yellow veins had descended like unruly little vines. His eyes had gone a deep, menacing charcoal shade.

He plunged his canines into his flesh and formed a wound sizable enough so she could drink from him. Damon allowed the first few drops to trickle into her mouth, before placing his wrist firmly over her lips.

The witch's eyelids flew open, frantic at first. She coughed as the syrupy liquid oozed down her throat. Her irises had returned to their extraordinary emerald hue.

Damon began to lift his wrist, but he felt her tiny hands reach up to clamp it back down into place. She wasn't done drinking and that pleased and aroused him all at once.

He felt her lips as they formed a vacuum seal against his skin. Her tongue swept across the puncture marks, lapping up every drop of crimson fluid.

When she was done, Bonnie leaned her head back and took a deep breath. Damon cupped her cheek with his right hand and nuzzled his nose against hers.

He would need to feed again soon. She had taken quite eagerly from his veins.

She breathed against his lips and held onto his sturdy shoulders. He brushed a lock of unkempt dark hair from her cheek and stared deeply into her eyes.

Tiny beads of sweat slicked her forehead while a crimson flush stained her chocolate colored cheeks. He seared her lips with a feverish kiss.

The thought of her perishing before his very eyes enraged him. Suddenly these feelings that bubbled and toiled at the pit of his stomach had become far more significant that he could have ever imagined.

Clearly this was a case of possession - but_ by whom?_ He needed a name - _so he could kick some Supernatural ass._ "What just happened?"

"_Tabitha_ happened."

_What? That crazy bitch did this? Why?_

What was it with spirits harnessing Bonnie's energy and using her body as a vessel with which to complete their unfinished business?

Of course, he thought. _The red stone had belonged to the famed witch, herself._ Still, that didn't answer his other question.

What the hell were those streams of energy doing? And what did it all mean?

"Sh-she did it, Damon," Bonnie stammered, gulping hard. "_She opened the gateway._"

***

Tituba Bennett was no stranger to secrecy. She lived her life shrouded in the stuff.

Moonlight danced overhead as she stood by the window wondering how on earth her favorite grandchild had become enmeshed in so much drama. Oh yes, _Emily had a little something to do with that._

She sighed, turning to find her best friend vigorously stirring a sapphire hued fluid into a pot of freshly brewed chamomile tea. They were preparing to make a late night phone call to Elena's aunt.

They couldn't very well tell her the truth. That was beyond complicated. Besides, it would out them, the Salvatores and Maya. Lord only knew _how_ the townspeople would react.

If they still held onto the same prejudices their ancestors in 1864 coveted, _every _Supernatural within close proximity to Mystic Falls would be in trouble.

"You ready?" Maya softly inquired, staring up at her best friend.

She bore an unblemished alabaster complexion, save for the rosy cheeks she regularly sported. The full-figured fairy was such a good-natured soul that it was hard to believe she had any relation whatsoever to _Rufus _McCollough.

Tituba seated herself on the beige sofa and took the piping hot mug being so graciously offered to her. She took slow, steady sips, allowing the solution of herbs, plant roots and witchcraft to coat her esophagus.

Maya had taken the time to brew a concealment serum. It was meant to disguise the voice of an individual with the vocal chords of another.

In this case, Tituba would draw on Elena's connection to the jewel-encrusted hairpin she had worn to the dance and mimic her tones. Gathering all her fortitude, the witch took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

A faint itchiness began to rise in her throat. "The tingling sensation means it's working," Maya threw in confidently.

"So it basically works like a dandruff shampoo?" the witch smirked, quirking an eyebrow in her friend's direction.

"Ever the smart ass, Tituba Bennett." The blue-eyed fairy playfully chucked a fluffy pillow at her.

"One of my more appealing traits," she jested. "So let's get this-"

Her voice trailed off then. She no longer sounded like the wise old witch who lived at 54 Walnut Boulevard. No. She sounded much more like the 17-year-old with pin straight locks who lived at 67 Lockley Lane.

She grasped the hand-held firmly and began to dial. It took three rings for Jenna Sommers to finally press the 'talk' button and when she did, she was typically effervescent. "Hello there?"

"Uh...hey Jenna," Tituba began, remembering how casual Elena's rapport with her aunt was. Then again, they were only nine years apart. "It's me."

"Elena," she merrily chimed in again. "So, how was the dance? You and Bonnie have a good time?"

_If you only knew._ "Uh yeah. The best." She took a quick moment to clear her throat. "Listen Jenna, me and Bonnie have this _huge_ history assignment due this week. It's a Civil War reenactment. We're _really_ rusty. Bad even. No, worse. _Awful!_"

"I'm sure you're just overreacting," the chestnut haired woman offered. "Wouldn't be a first for anyone in our family."

"Actually, I was sorta...kinda hoping I could stay with Bonnie and Grams for a few days to work on it." An awkward silence fell between aunt and "niece" for what seemed like forever.

Tituba knew full well that Jenna Sommers still had yet to grasp the concept of_ authoritative parenting._ Who could blame her? She wasn't anticipating the sudden death of her only sister and teddy bear of a brother-in-law.

She had essentially been thrust back into the daily grind in Mystic Falls as an instant guardian - without the faintest idea where to begin.

"You said you would be home by_ tonight_," she reminded the witch. "I gave you and Bonnie_ the whole weekend_ to whoop it up. You've got school tomorrow, Elena. There are rules in this house and...and they apply to _everyone._"

"But it's for school, Jenna," she insisted, trying to sound as shrill and whiny as she possibly could. "I'm _begging you_. This project - it's worth like,_ 50 percent of our final grade_ and we need all the practice we can get."

"Then invite Bonnie to _our_ place," the young woman suggested. "You know I adore her to pieces. It wouldn't be a problem."

"But we're already in the...the..." _Shit._ She had reached her first roadblock.

Maya quickly grabbed a notepad nearby and began frantically scribbling her own brand of chicken scratch on it. Holding it up for Tituba to read, the fairy began pointing hysterically at each word.

"Its for Mr. _Salty_-man?" she read, sounding mildly perplexed.

"Mr. _Saltz_-man?" Jenna corrected her.

Tituba smacked herself on the forehead in embarrassment. "Yup. That's the one."

Of course Jenna Sommers would care if Alaric Saltzman were somehow involved in this grand scheme. She had the hots for him - big time. Anyone could see that.

"Isn't he on sabbatical?" she queried.

Roadblock number two. _Double shit._

"Y-yeah," the witch stammered. "But we've been hearing that he might be back in time for us to present. A-and since this is worth so much of our grade, I really wanted to spend time going over _every last detail_ with Bonnie."

She could tell by Jenna's drawn out sigh that she had worn her down significantly. "Please Jenna. I know it's really short notice and I'm really, really, really sorry. It's just that I've been...having all these nightmares."

"Nightmares?"

"About..._college_," Tituba offered hurriedly. "I'm so scared Jenna. What if we suck? What if we _fail _the assignment?_ Oh my God. _It'll be on my transcripts. I'll be _blacklisted._ No Ivy League colleges will even take a second glance at me. No wait. _They won't even take a first._ Oh God. I think I'm gonna be depressed."

"Okay, calm down," Jenna soothed. "Sheesh, you sound just like your mother. You bucking for the _Best Dramatic Actress Oscar_ or something?"

"Think I stand a chance?" she threw in playfully.

"I'll tell you one thing. You are most definitely your mother's daughter."

Tituba stifled a chuckle at the realization that she was pretty much home free at this point. "Does that mean I can stay?"

"Ugh," she groaned into the receiver. "Fine. But you'd _better_ ace this little project of yours."

In the end they agreed Tituba would pick up some of Elena's belongings in the morning. It was also just enough time for her to swipe one of Jenna's belongings as well.

Besides, she'd need it to channel _her_ voice each morning she had to phone the school's secretary to call in "sick" for Elena. The reality was, they had no idea when either teen would be home, but they couldn't risk Jenna going insane because her niece was being held against her will in Ireland.

No one could know about the world that lurked just beyond the limitations of perceived "normality." No one.

***

"You know what I _love_ about your brother, Stefan?" Fiona grinned at the younger Salvatore as they began setting the table for supper.

Quirking an eyebrow at the dark-haired witch, he offered her a bemused expression. "There's something to _love_ about Damon?"

"_Shocking_, isn't it?" she chuckled. "Look Stefan, there are some witches who can just reach out and touch you and instantly know the kind of person you are and then there are those who are slightly less perceptive."

"I'm guessing you're not the latter," he surmised, placing white china plates on the oak surface.

"How very _perceptive_ of you," she giggled. "Your brother has a tendency to write people off in an instant. He doesn't trust easily. Doesn't love easily. He's been hurt -_ mostly by his own stubbornness."_

Stefan scoffed at that last remark. "_Doesn't exactly take magic to figure that out._"

The witch ignored his hint of sarcasm. "He lies to himself a great deal."

"And that's something to _love_?" the vampire chucked in, with a roll of his brown eyes.

"No," she replied. "It's merely an observation. The thing I _love _about him is how hard he tries to project this Billy Idol, rebel version of a vampire - when in fact, he is much more emotionally affected than he lets on."

"_Damon? Projecting?_" he gasped, feigning shock. "_Really?_"

"A little less sarcasm, if you please," she replied, hands place defensively on her hips. "I realize you're frustrated, Stefan, but you've got to keep it together."

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his gaze from the table top. "I'm sorry, Fiona."

He couldn't help the way he had begun to feel since consuming his first serving of human blood in well over 100 years. He had become temperamental, moody and his body had begun to change.

If Damon were around with his "oh so lovable wit" right now, he would have diagnosed Stefan with a raging case of PMS.

_Thank God Damon's not around right now._

There were certain changes that took place inside the body of a vampire when they switched from drinking animal blood to human blood. Draining mortals enabled them to do things they wouldn't otherwise be able to do.

Take Damon's proficiency in manipulating fog, for instance. Then of course, there was his very unique ability to transform into a crow.

Stefan, when fueled by mortal blood, had his own powers. He just needed to be on a steady diet of the stuff to evoke them to the fullest extent.

The Irish witch took a step forward and studied the forlorn expression on his face. "Chin up, lad," she began, wrapping her arms around his cool physique."We'll find the fair Elena. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you lot make it out of Ireland safely. D'you hear me?"

The gentle hum of her voice as it danced over his eardrums and the compassionate way she rubbed circles on his back made his undead heart suddenly feel warm.

He had never encountered such maternal tenderness from anyone in his 162 years of existence. His own mother died giving him the gift of life - yet another point of contention between the brothers.

"Thank you," he told the witch, as they unwound their arms from one another. "You've been so good to us. So kind."

If she had been perfectly honest with the young man right then and there, he would have known how much his genuine display of gratitude meant to her. For now though, she needed him to remain strong, not overly emotional.

Nodding at him instead, she returned to the subject of his brother. "You and Damon were close once, were you not?"

Sighing heavily, Stefan replied. "As close as two brothers could be. Then Katherine came along."

"_Also_ a vampire," Fiona chucked in.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" Stefan queried.

Placing another fork onto the chocolate brown table cloth, she laughed. "It seems young Bonnie is experiencing a case of little green monster syndrome. Told me all about the undead lass using some very..._colorful_ descriptions."

"So she _really_ likes my brother," the young vampire exclaimed with a highly amused expression on his face.

"I'd say so," Fiona added, grabbing a bowl filled with fruit to place at the center of the setting.

"You know, I've never seen him act like this before. Not since Katherine," he concluded.

"His _emotional crutch from 1864,_" the Irish woman grinned.

Offering her a side swept smirk, Stefan placed two long white candles on top of midnight hued medieval steel candle holders. "I think he'd beg to differ on your interpretation of her."

After a momentary pause, he continued. "Damon had it rough growing up. Our father always viewed him as a constant source of disappointment. They were total opposites. And when my mom died, things got worse."

"He was closer with your mother," she chimed in.

"Much," Stefan conceded. "My dad got lonely. Depressed. He drank a lot. I was just a baby at the time. The nanny spent most of her time taking care of me."

"So he took his frustrations out on Damon," Fiona assumed.

The brown-eyed vampire nodded. "The yelling used to be unbearable. He chastised Damon on a daily basis for being too soft. _Too emotional_."

Stefan stood frozen for a moment, as the memories threatened to consume him. He took another deep breath. "He failed to understand Damon was just a little boy, trying desperately to cope without his mother."

"Did he ever..." Her voice trailed off, but Stefan knew precisely what she was insinuating.

He shook his head from side to side. "No. The abuse was far more emotional. Neglect, frequent insults - everything a good parent _shouldn't_ be doing. They came pretty close to blows a couple of times, though."

"Over Damon's choice to leave the Confederacy?" she inserted.

"If you were between 18 and 35, you were drafted. No ifs, ands or buts about it. I was this close to having my life turned upside down by war," Stefan explained carefully.

Fiona sat down on one of the cushioned dining room chairs and urged him to do the same.

"He didn't want to go. He never believed in anything the Confederacy stood for. When he left them, my father was furious. Then Katherine came into our lives and finally Damon had someone to make him laugh, make him smile."

"_Perceived_ happiness," Fiona insisted. "Think about it, Stefan. She gave him everything your father withheld - affection, acceptance, validation. Your brother was vulnerable and I'm quite certain Katherine was clever enough to realize that almost immediately. Of course he's going to miss her desperately. She was his life preserver - even as she was using him."

"I should have done more," he replied full of regret. "He needed me to be stronger for him. All I did was follow the dutiful, obedient son act to a tee when I should have been standing up for him."

Fiona reached out and grasped the young man's hand in her own. Then, very lightly, she coaxed his chin up with her index finger.

"You can be there for him _now_," she declared with a warm smile. "The road ahead will be paved with one obstacle after the next. There will be no shortage of danger, Stefan. The air is rife with wickedness. I can smell it coming from a mile away. What Bonnie and Damon have is nothing short of epic. It's been prophesied for 146 years now. That means enemies will come from far and wide to keep the bringer of peace from being born. Your brother will need you now more than ever. So here's a chance for the _both of you_ to make amends."

***

Caroline Forbes had a sullen expression on her adorable face, as she twirled a strand of luminous blond hair around her index finger. Needless to say, she was still massively pissed that neither Bonnie, nor Elena had bothered to give her the 411 on why they had disappeared so abruptly from the dance.

Talk about being abandoned by your two closest friends! She sighed, nestled between Matt Donovan and Tyler Lockwood. Math class was supposed to begin ages ago, but alas, no sign of Mr. Rogers.

People sure seemed to be dropping like flies at Robert E. Lee. No one had even figured out where Mr. Saltzman had ventured off too since taking his sudden sabbatical. Yet another reason for Caroline to feel completely and utterly bummed.

Glancing to her left, she observed the handsome redhead's features. Sunlight streamed through the nearby window, casting an angelic glow on his skin.

Poor Matt, she sighed to herself. _So adorable. So fit. So obviously heartbroken after being shafted by Bonnie at the dance._

She remembered the hopeful expression in his blue eyes and the way it had vanished the second his date flung herself free from his arms and ran from the gym after he tried to lay a big, fat, wet one on her.

"So..." she began awkwardly, trying to fill the silence with smalltalk. "You heard from Bonnie yet?"

_Way to go, Caroline. Start off by reminding him exactly why he feels like shit right now._

His eyes wondered around the room for a moment, hoping no one else had overheard the blond girl's mention of his date. It was still pretty embarrassing, considering the fact that practically everyone had their eyes on them at the dance.

It seemed like every single person in the universe was privy to the fact that he, Matt Donovan, had a thing for her in the first place. How could he not?

She had been totally supportive when he and Elena had called it quits. Well, more like when the brunette decided she just had to quit him.

Then of course, there was the slightly more superficial element of his interest in her. She was astonishingly beautiful.

"Nah," he sighed, fiddling with the number 2 pencil on his notepad. "You?"

"Nope. Not a word," she replied bitterly. "Seems like Elena decided to fall off the face of the Earth again too. I can't seem to get a hold of her either."

Sensing his sudden discomfort at the mention of her other "bestie," Caroline inwardly chided herself for her habitual verbal diarrhea.

_Why don't you just bring up his failure of a mother while you're at it too?_

"What's up with those two anyway?" Tyler casually queried. "They weren't in class yesterday either."

_Bitches!_ Caroline took a deep breath in before exhaling again. The thought of them off on some random joy ride, sans her bubbly presence was more than enough to make her blood boil. _How could they?_

"I dunno," the blond replied, unable to mask the resentment in her voice. "I'll tell you one thing, though. They'd _better _be here tomorrow 'cause we've got that stupid Civil War reenactment to do in U.S. History."

"Hey, isn't Stefan in your group?" Matt asked, trying desperately not to fall asleep on his text book.

"Yup," she answered, simultaneously doodling her first name with 'Saltzman' attached to it. "He's supposed to be bringing in the costumes. Apparently some old relatives left them behind."

She paused momentarily, realizing she hadn't seen him at all yesterday or today. "Wait a sec. Was he at football practice this morning?"

"Nope," Tyler answered, shaking his head in disappointment. "Dude _totally_ ditched us - and right before the second most important game of the year. I'd say that's grounds for dismissal from the team. You agree, Donovan?"

Flashing his childhood friend a look that read 'Thanks for the sympathy, but get real,' Matt shook his head from side to side. "He's an awesome player. Maybe he had a good reason."

"Look, _we've all _got reasons," Tyler interjected. "Doesn't mean you ditch practice for 'em. Fair is fair. He should get kicked off the team."

On the surface, Tyler Lockwood seemed more like the male equivalent of Caroline Forbes - minus the penchant for up-talk and addiction to shoe shopping. He valued looks, status and to perfect strangers, he was the stereotypical rich, conceited Mayor's son.

Privilege and money could do a great deal for a person's social standing. He knew that firsthand, but nothing could compensate for the lack of role models in his teenage bubble.

Having an alpha-male douche bag as your father and a virtual Stepford Wife for your mother wasn't exactly conducive to rearing a down to earth child.

Matt Donovan was essentially the only person worth looking up to in his life. They grew up together and for all intents and purposes, they were like brothers - minus the matching DNA.

When Elena Gilbert broke his only brother's heart, Tyler Lockwood was ready to duke it out with Saint Stefan when he came rolling into town. After all, you don't just stand by and watch your best friend's girl wonder off with the new kid.

Not a chance. There are rules in the brotherhood. You kick ass, take names and most of all, have each other's back.

"What's up with this town?" the petite blond wondered aloud. "Everyone just keeps...dropping like flies. First the teachers, then the students. God, even my mom is totally non-existent these days. She spends more time on duty than she does parenting."

"Hasn't she always been a bit of a workaholic?" Matt threw in.

"Well yeah," she shrugged. "But now it's like she's this _super cop to the millionth degree._"

"I'd like to initiate a trade," Tyler chuckled. "Your _super cop_ mom for my_ absentee_ father."

The handsome redhead quirked his eyebrow daringly at them. "You two really wanna play the_ 'boo hoo, my parents suck' _game? Try having Kelly Donovan as your mom. Then talk to me about hard knocks."

Given the fact that Matt's aforementioned "mother" had been out strutting her stuff on the beaches of Miami for the past two years and sticking her tongue down some guy named Pete Ortega's mouth for half the time, he was coping pretty well. It was Vicki who found the separation significantly more troubling.

The fact was, money was becoming even more scarce to come by. Kelly Donovan hadn't left much for her children to live on to begin with. Matt was going to have to get a job if he intended on supporting himself - especially since no one else was there to do it.

"Point taken," Tyler acknowledged with a nod.

Caroline glanced back up at the black-rimmed clock. Twenty minutes had elapsed and still, no sign of Mr. Rogers.

She was about to shift her gaze away when she caught sight of two uniformed officers escorting a young blond girl down the hallway. Her name was Meredith Richards.

She was a junior at Robert E. Lee and not particularly popular to boot - thanks in large part to her obvious eccentricities and fascination with death. Just this past weekend, she had come quite close to a firsthand encounter with just that.

Both of her friends - also juniors - were abducted...or so she said. The young girl had spent the entire weekend in the hospital under observation and answering police queries.

"You guys," Caroline exclaimed, smacking both young men on the forearms. Any excuse to lay a hand on those muscular specimens, she giggled inwardly. "You hear about what happened to Meredith Richards in the woods over the weekend?"

"_Looney Tunes?_" Tyler chucked in. It was his own personal "term of endearment" for the little Richards girl.

"She's back," the perky blond threw in. "Just saw some cops escorting her down the hallway."

"Wasn't she attacked?" Matt offered, leaning forward. "They said her body was bruised and battered on the news."

"Yeah well, get this," she continued, beckoning them forth with her index finger. She lowered her voice just a touch. "She told the cops they were attacked by a man...with wings."

"Like in _The Mothman Prophecies?_" Tyler scoffed, unable to stifle the immediate inclination to laugh until his face turned blue. "Like I said, _Looney Tunes_."

"Yeah well, sounds about as_ looney _as Vicki telling me she was attacked by vampires," Matt recalled, shrugging his broad shoulders.

An awkward silence now hung between the trio. Vicki Donovan was still a particularly sore subject for both young men to discuss.

For one thing, Matt was still reeling internally because of his sister's apparent lack of consideration for him or anyone else for that matter. Just like her mother, she had chosen to run from every one of her problems.

Tyler pretended to be immersed in the equation on the blackboard. So much had transpired between him and Vicky - so much he was now secretly ashamed of.

He treated her like bonafide trailer trash and cast her aside in front of his parents. Not to mention, he could still remember the night he had tried to force himself upon her. Her desperate pleas rang in his ears like a blaring alarm.

"So how exactly do you know all this?" he asked, turning to face Caroline again. "Your mom letting you in on top secret police business now?"

"No," she answered truthfully. "I'm just a really good listener," she smiled.

"I believe there's a technical term for what you're doing," Matt smirked, penciling a New Orleans Saints jersey onto a sheet of paper. Carefully, he drew his name on it with his team number placed just beneath. "It's called _'eavesdropping._'"

"Maybe," she slyly replied. "Anyway, I overheard her telling Officer Rodriguez all about it. They both seemed really...on edge. _More than usual._"

She scrunched her nose then. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the pretty blond stared determinately ahead.

"Uh oh," Matt beamed. "I know that look."

"What look?" she innocently responded.

"The look that says you're getting ready to stick that pretty nose where it doesn't belong," he chuckled.

_He thinks you're pretty. Nicely done, Forbes!_

"Just think of me as_ Junior Detective_, Caroline Forbes," she offered with a curt nod.

"Alright Junior Detective," Matt continued. "I've got an assignment for you. Where the heck is Rogers? We've been waiting her for half an hour now."

She carefully scanned the hallway once more for any sign of the portly, aging man. Not a single one. "Sorry, Detective Forbes is drawing a blank right now...but if you leave your name, number and a brief message, she'll be sure to get back to you later," she replied, mimicking her voicemail to a tee.

Leaning forward, the football ace laughed heartily. The sight of him suddenly experiencing genuine pleasure again made Caroline feel a tinge of warmth. It was nice being able to make someone as sweet as Matt feel good. Besides, he's a real looker.

"So, you guys wanna hit up The Grill tonight?" Tyler threw in, leaning against the back rest of his chair.

"Count me in," Caroline replied. "After all, what else am I gonna do? Hang out with Bonnie and Elena? Oh yeah, that's right._ I _no longer exist to them."

"Well _their_ loss is _our_ gain," Matt chimed in, causing her to blush involuntarily.

_Dinner with two sufficiently hot, impressively athletic guys. Not bad, Caroline Forbes. Not bad at all. _

***

"It seems you two have stumbled upon the Kenmare Portal," Fiona surmised.

She sat on the chocolate brown sofa, rubbing Bonnie's back in a soft, circular motion. Damon stood with his arms braced defiantly on his hips, a wicked scowl marring his handsome features.

His brother sat on the cracked leather armchair, watching the firelight as it danced beyond the hearth. He could feel his body going through a gradual metamorphosis.

The mortal blood supply Fiona was feeding him had begun to stir in him the same wild creature that used to take hold at midnight. A little bit of the old Stefan was getting set to unleash himself upon the world again.

"Where does it lead?" Bonnie meekly inquired.

Fiona Reid had heard a great deal about the legendary Portal since the age of six. It could only be activated with Elora's blessing.

The great Witch Goddess did not bestow that gift lightly. Only those most in need of escape would be granted access to the gateway.

"Anywhere your heart desires," the Irish woman exclaimed. Tucking a lock of silky raven hair behind her ear, the brown-eyed woman sighed. "It would appear that you, Bonnie Bennett, are the vessel of choice for the spirit world."

"Why?" the young woman asked, watching as the copper-skinned witch rose and began to pace by the fireplace.

"You may not realize the great deal of power that resides within you, but it's there. Everyone in the Supernatural world knows The One Witch is destined for greatness and that includes the dearly departed who seek a body in which to carry out their unfinished deeds. Tabitha is no longer alive and therefore devoid of her powers in their fullest extent. She needed to harness that which flows through your veins in order to open the gateway."

"Why did she need it opened?" the green-eyed witch continued, feeling the cushion sink somewhat as Damon sat beside her.

"My dear lass, everything happens for a reason," Fiona answered, offering up one of her infectious smiles.

"Bonnie nearly died this afternoon because of your ancestor and that's your flimsy excuse?" he balked defensively, sapphire eyes wide with rage.

"You wouldn't have allowed it to come to that," the petite Irish woman responded. "She knew that." Momentary silence. "For whatever reason, that portal needed to be activated. Tabitha was the last witch to flee Ireland using the Portal, therefore the onus fell on her flaxen head to re-ignite the power that lurked beneath the soils of the Druids' Circle."

"Tabitha used it?" Stefan chimed in.

"How d'you think she arrived in Mystic Falls so suddenly?" Fiona supplied. "Her mum and dad were murdered by The Fior. They needed to keep her safe - so they sent her to the New World, using a little old world magic."

"Why were they killed?" the younger man queried, rising to his feet.

Fiona's copper skin gleamed against the firelight. It was a rich, flawless hue she had inherited thanks to her Pakistani and Irish heritage.

"For being a _hybrid sympathizer_," she replied with a shrug. "Most of Edwin Bellwain's best mates were hybrids - and powerful ones at that. The Fior couldn't stand the idea of so much power concentrated in the hands of the 'impure bloods,' so they started ransacking their homes and killing their families. Tabitha's parents, being as open minded as they were, became targets."

"_A cleanse_ of sorts," Stefan offered.

"Like the one that happened in Mystic Falls all those years ago," Bonnie inserted. "Well it won't happen again. _Not if I have anything to say about it._"

On this inside, Damon felt a twinge of pride and elation at the site of her so determined and fierce. She had truly begun to embrace her role as The Chosen Witch.

He placed his arm along the backrest of the sofa and relaxed against the pliable softness of it. Instinctively, she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest.

Stefan tried to suppress his amusement and fondness for their apparent acceptance of one another. Maybe this time things would be different.

Damon had Bonnie and he had…

He placed his head in his palms and groaned against the smoothness of his pale skin. Elena needed to be okay.

Fear and uncertainty swirled around him like an unstoppable vortex. The Three couldn't have just fallen off the face of the Earth. They had to be around here somewhere.

And when he found them, they would be sorry. They were no longer dealing with a vampire who subscribed to absolute self-discipline when it came to blood consumption.

_This was a different Stefan Salvatore._

***

Bonnie sat in front of the cherry finish dressing table, staring at her flawless caramel complexion in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks relentlessly until they turned a flattering crimson hue.

She was a veritable bundle of nerves sitting there in silence, while her heart pitter-pattered like the eager feet of a running toddler. She observed the way the white cotton nightdress clung appealingly to her curves.

Just last night, a pair of smooth pale hands had roamed over every expanse of exposed skin. His cool, wet lips had brushed over her stomach, while his throbbing erection pulsated against her thigh.

Bonnie felt her breath hitch in her throat. He was intoxicating – every sleek inch of him.

She examined her full pout with her fingertips, recalling the way they had attached themselves to his wrist, consuming every ounce of blood he was willing to offer. The red fluid had always been so revolting to her before.

This time it had taken on a different flavor. It wasn't entirely metallic, nor was it unbearably salty. It was rich and it re-ignited her to the bone.

Reaching for her short robe of the same hue, she belted it loosely and opened her door. The little witch began to saunter in the direction of the bathroom. Her neck swiveled slightly as she passed his door.

_Keep walking, Bennett. You need your rest. _

She tucked one romantic curl behind her ear and paused for a moment, soaking in the warm, cozy feeling of the old cottage. It reminded her of the countryside abodes you might find in fairy tales.

First there was the beautifully thatched dark roof. Then there were the iron framed, diamond pattern windows.

Fiona had scattered an array of multicolored pillows throughout the home. Persian rugs sheathed the hardwood floors, while medieval-looking light fixtures dangled from the ceilings.

Embers burned bright red in each of the fireplaces. There was one in the living room and another in Damon's room. There was also one in the library beside Fiona's chamber.

It was a glorious room. Solid oak wood bookcases lined the walls. They were crammed with masterful literary finds and spellbinding reads.

Emerald, maroon, blues and browns were arranged side by side. At the center of the room was a red, black and brown Persian rug.

A sofa the color of chestnuts sat on top of it, while the deep-set fireplace stood before it. Over the mantle, a painting of Ballynoe Lane had been placed meticulously. It was filled with lush greens, deep browns and an overwhelming sense of whimsy.

_If only Elena were here. She'd love this place._

The thought of Stefan so deeply grieved by the loss of Elena broke her heart to pieces. She had come to regard the younger Salvatore as a close friend. He had more than proven himself to her and anyone else who every doubted the validity of his feelings for her best friend.

He wasn't the only one who exceeded her expectations.

Bonnie turned on her heel and stared at Damon's bedroom door, full of wonder. She felt an overwhelming temptation to knock on the wooden barrier.

Staring down at her current angelic ensemble, she began fidgeting with the soft belt on her robe. She straightened every inch of wrinkled fabric out.

"Ahem."

She turned swiftly in the darkened hallway. Stefan watched her knowingly, causing her cheeks to flush instantly. Bonnie averted her gaze, opting to view the floorboards instead.

"Stefan," she giggled nervously. "I was just…going to the bathroom."

"Isn't that _Damon's_ door?" he smiled kindly.

_Nice one, Bennett._ "Oh…" She feigned complete innocence; despite knowing full well Stefan was already on to her. "I uh…I guess I forgot."

The brown-eyed vampire nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to pass. Bonnie's hand was on the doorknob, when he cleared his throat again.

"Ahem."

"Yes?" she inquired, turning around again.

Stefan leaned in and whispered into her left ear. "I think he's in the library."

Rather than maintain the pretense of being totally oblivious, she chuckled softly. "Thanks."

With that, the younger Salvatore made his way back to his quarters and offered her a parting wave before shutting the door behind him.

Bonnie sighed to herself. _He's just a guy. Sure, you're all hot and bothered right now. And you kinda, sorta have a thing for him…and he saved your life. Oh, who am I kidding? Obviously not Stefan._

She slowly sauntered toward the library door and clutched the brass handle. Turning the knob ever so gently, the little witch leaned her head in and caught a glimpse of a roaring fire.

It illuminated every inch of the intimate space. She tiptoed through the door, not a blue-eyed vampire in sight. He had been here, though. That much, she was certain of.

There before the fireplace was a colorful array of pillows in vibrant jewel tones. Books on history, poetry and magic were scattered nearby while a single glass of red wine stood on the coffee table.

She couldn't resist the urge to lie against the softness of the pillows while the fire crackled deliciously into her ears. Grasping a large, thick red throw from the sofa, she covered herself from chest to toe and cracked open one of the discarded books.

Bonnie devoured every word of Rudyard Kipling's "Blue Roses." She read aloud:

_Roses red and roses white_

_Plucked I for my love's delight._

_She would none of all my posies –_

_Bade me gather her blue roses._

"Half the world I wandered through, seeking where such flowers grew."

The deeply masculine voice hissed into her right ear, as a cool breeze wafted through the room. "Hello _fire starter_," he purred, pressing his lips tenderly against her cheek.

Bonnie turned to find him half lying on the sofa, reading over her shoulder. "When did you get here?"

"I was already here," he smirked. "Sitting by the window sill," he pointed at the cushiony area behind her.

"Behind the curtains," she finished, shifting slightly to allow him room to spread out beneath her.

His chest was pressed intimately against her back, while his arm encircled her tiny waist. Damon held the blue book up against the firelight and finished the poem:

_Half the world unto my quest_

_Answered me with laugh and jest._

_Home I came at winter tide,_

_But my silly love had died_

_Seeking with her latest breath_

_Roses from the arms of Death._

_It may be beyond the grave_

_She shall find what she would have._

_Mine was but an idle quest –_

_Roses white and red are best!_

By the time he had finished reciting each word, the vampire craned his neck forward and with deliberate slowness, trailed his lips along her smooth jaw line.

"Damon," she breathed, reaching behind to weave her fingers into his mess of hair.

His black silk shirt was completely unbuttoned, allowing her to feel the tautness of his abdomen against her back. She felt his right hand move forward, beginning to untie the knot she had carefully roped together.

The vampire's glacial fingertips slid beneath the flimsy fabric of her robe and began to roam over the white cotton nightgown with lace trim. His hands slid leisurely down the length of her body, before snaking up beneath the seam of the dress.

She felt his hips begin to swivel in a circular motion against her derriere and closed her eyes. He brushed his knuckles gently against her stomach and allowed his lips and teeth to graze her neck.

He watched as the flames cast a decidedly captivating glow on her butterscotch complexion. The sound of her heart pulsating rapidly inside of her chest only served to titillate his senses.

The feeling of his moist tongue as it moved languorously over her pulse point was enough to make her quiver with delight. He suckled heartily, breathing raggedly against her skin.

Her hips began to oscillate in unison with his. "I want you," he whispered seductively into her ear.

Even if the words had remained unsaid, the feeling of his arousal protruding against her bottom would have clued her in.

Damon turned the witch in his arms and stared into her emerald eyes. They were glazed over with such passion, lust and expectation.

He allowed his sapphire orbs to rake over the length of her diminutive body before grasping her securely and rising to his feet. She now found herself hauled up against the muscular contours of his chest, while her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist.

Bonnie's arms encircled his neck while she peered up at him from beneath a thick fan of dark lashes. Leaning her forehead against his, she took a deep, shaky breath.

Transfixed by her luscious lips, he swooped in with a searing kiss. His tongue brushed languorously across the pliant pillows of her mouth.

He needed to be inside of her.

Damon prodded her lips continuously until finally they parted, allowing him the opportunity to slide into the warmth and sweetness of her mouth. Their tongues mingled with one another, lapping up the taste and texture of one another.

Intoxicating pheromones filled his nostrils, as he dismissed the white robe, allowing it to cascade to the floor. He held her in place with one hand, while the other slithered beneath the nightgown, feeling every silken inch of caramel skin.

His icy touch made her shiver with ecstasy. She could feel his full lips brushing against her skin, raining soft kisses along her throat and shoulders.

His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of her gown, prying them lower until finally one tumescent peak revealed itself. Damon launched himself forward, suckling ravenously on the chocolate hued nipple.

Bonnie arched her back involuntarily, allowing him greater access to her breasts. He quickly unsheathed the other supple mound and savored the taste of her.

His tongue flicked teasingly over the swollen nub, eliciting a moan of absolute pleasure from her. He gently nibbled, before suckling with all the urgency of a man possessed by the pure, raw want.

Damon watched her intently as she leaned back, immersed in the pure elation of being worshiped on the most intimate level. Her eyes were alight again because of him and this moment of passion they had been yearning for.

She stared intently into his ice blue orbs and licked her lips in anticipation. "Make love to me," she breathed, cupping his cheeks with both of her hands.

He couldn't explain the feeling inside of him at the sound of her words, so sincere and full of affection. "Making love" wasn't something he had done in his afterlife.

It was always casual sex or sex for blood. One nameless face after the next, one drained body to discard in the woods after another.

This time it was different. This time he really wanted only one person in the world. It was Bonnie.

That same vivacious, young girl he had attacked in the woods had somehow managed to invade his cold, black heart.

The realization of it all shocked him. Of all the seeming impossibilities, this one was the greatest in his life. Yet here he was, about to make love to the little witch and he was going to be her first.

He placed her gingerly on the soft red throw and took a moment to drink in the image of her lying there so stunning and vulnerable all at once. Damon quickly rid himself of his silk shirt and felt her warm palms begin to probe the hard ridges of his stomach and chest.

He grinned at her response to him. The vampire braced himself on his elbows and gradually lowered himself onto her petite form.

He scorched her lips with his, relishing the tender feel of her mortal flesh against him. Bonnie allowed her fingers to travel down the expanse of his muscular back and shuddered when his fingertips slid the thin fabric of her nightgown completely from her virgin body.

Damon lifted her derriere gently and removed her white lace panties. Bonnie breathed against his lips, brushing aside a damp, rebellious lock of hair.

His eyes had become shadowy, almost charcoal in shade. Thin yellow veins had begun to bleed themselves into vine-like existence beneath.

She pried his lips apart with her fingertips and observed the sudden protrusion of fangs. He gulped hard, observing each facial response to his transformation.

Bonnie ran her fingertips along the razor-sharp canines and flinched slightly. As gentle as she had been, they had still managed to pierce through her flesh.

A minuscule drop of blood seeped from the barely noticeable puncture wound. Damon tried to turn away, but what she did next enthralled him.

Instinctively, the witch placed her wounded thumb into her mouth and sucked. Allowing a single droplet to linger on the surface of her tongue, she kissed him feverishly.

The taste of her was ambrosial, while her thrusts against his still clothed groin were earth shattering. He wanted to taste every inch of her.

Bonnie allowed her hands to travel beneath his navel in order to swiftly unbutton his dark wash jeans. Damon tore them from his body in seconds and true to form, hadn't bothered to restrict himself with boxers or briefs.

She giggled inwardly. _I knew it!_

Bonnie ran her fingers through his midnight locks and inhaled his musky fragrance. Beaming up at him, she took a deep breath. "Damon."

"Mmmhmm?" he replied, still bewitched by her beauty.

"There's s-something you should know," she stammered nervously. "I've never done this before…with anyone."

Silence hung between them for a moment, as he watched her intently. Pressing his lips against her forehead, the vampire began to trail searing kisses down her throat, before arriving at the valley between the gentle swells of her breasts.

Damon grinned at her before planting kisses all along her toned stomach. His tongue darted out against the skin as he slide lower and lower.

Bonnie stretched her arms out overhead as she felt the slickness of his moist tongue as it found its way beneath the crest of dark curls at her apex. It darted skillfully against the sensitive nub hidden by her delicate lips.

He flicked his tongue repetitively before nibbling gently and suckling with great intensity. "Ooooh!" she moaned, feeling her hips bucking forward.

She was so wet and more than ready to feel the true extent of his desires. Damon carefully slid his full, hard length inside of her, moving gently in tune with the motions of his little bird.

Her dark wavy locks were fanned around her head on a pillow, as he placed a hand supportively on her hip. Though the pleasure was becoming increasingly more intense, so was the slight pain.

Damon had anticipated this and began to slow down his spirited thrusts. Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he peered into her green eyes and brushed his lips across hers in a feather light stroke.

"It'll only hurt for a second," he whispered, loving the way their sweat-slicked bodies were now fused together.

"You promise?" she softly replied, staring up at him.

"I promise," he answered, brushing aside an unkempt strand of hair from her deeply flushed face.

The expression of trust in her eyes left him completely dumbfounded. The feeling of her moist core surrounding his throbbing erection was beyond anything else he had ever felt.

He began to move his hips in slow, circular motions against hers again. Bonnie matched him every step of the way.

Damon kissed her hungrily and kneaded her breasts with his palms as they ground into one another continually. The sensation building up inside of her was all encompassing.

Her breathing became ragged as they thrust into one another quickly. Feeling her restraint slipping away, Bonnie's nails raked over his taut, sinewy shoulders.

Damon yelped in both physical pain and immense elation. "Ohhh…Bonnie…"

They were so close. She felt herself brimming with ecstasy as he plunged into her and plundered her lips in one fell swoop.

"Damon," she moaned aloud.

Holding her closer, Damon felt as she came first, quivering around his erection. Then came his climax. "Oh!"

They shivered against one another as the sweat continued to glisten on their skin. Bonnie and Damon stared at each other for the longest while as the firelight danced nearby.

The vampire pressed his lips against her forehead, before claiming her mouth once more. Grasping the matching beige throw from the sofa, Damon flung it over top of them and gathered his little witch in his arms.

_There they slumbered through the night._

_Holding each other felt so right._

_Lips to lips_

_Hips to hips_

_Arms entwined_

_Love-struck, my heart feels so inclined._


	12. Chapter 12

_Hi everyone! I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to post chapter 12. I've been so busy lately and as I may have said before, writing this story has become like writing a novel - one I love putting together!_

_Anyway, I must say thank you to all of the wonderful readers who have clicked on this link or posted a review. You guys give the most awesome feedback and trust me, I really do appreciate it! I won't make you wait much longer, so here goes. Chapter 13 will be very, very intense and this one basically sets the stage, so enjoy. Let me know what you think, like, don't like - anything!_

_My song picks are:_

_"Invincible" by Muse (So fitting for BnD in this story!)_

_"Set the Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright (Very appropriate for Stefan and Elena in this chapter)_

_"The Price of Love" by White Lies _

_"Unfinished Business" by White Lies_

**Chapter 12: Open Your Eyes**

Tiny wisps of cool air brushed against the delicate skin of her brown arms. Bonnie Bennett was still basking in blissful slumber and hoping desperately that by some miracle, morning would simply delay its arrival.

The night before had been unexpected enough; it was also one she would treasure for the rest of her life – however long or short that may be.

She had officially surrendered her v-card and to someone she had once considered absolutely vile, no less.

Things were different now. He wasn't the same unfeeling, insufferable jerk who had lunged at her in the woods and nearly sucked her dry.

Damon Salvatore had been an astonishingly tender lover. The way his lips trailed softly down the length of her, the feel of his fingertips as they gently caressed each untouched inch of her...

It was more than enough to stir her passions once more.

He had gazed into her eyes with such affection that it caught the little witch decidedly offguard. She had never once imagined him being able to feel much more than rabid hunger or ill will toward others – before Ireland.

Bonnie groaned in discomfort at the feeling of hardwood beneath her. She and Damon must have been slipped off the throw in the middle of the night.

Drowsiness was still holding her captive and she was unable to move a limb without grimacing. She didn't even have to open her eyes; she knew instinctively a new day had begun.

Still in a state of groggy haze, she reluctantly lifted her head and peered through squinty eyes at her surroundings. There was something peculiar about this place.

Chocolate browns were muddled with olive greens. Then there were reds and blues.

A stench reminiscent of stale wheat began to fill her nostrils and as Bonnie's vision became clearer, it dawned on her. She was back at Murphys.

_What the hell is going on?_

She shifted her gaze from left to right repeatedly. How did she manage to go from the warmth of the library to a booth at the empty town pub.

Placing a hand on her chest, she felt as the fist-sized organ within began to palpitate rapidly. Her breathing became rushed and frantic.

How did she get here? Why was she here? And where was Damon?

Had their romantic night together simply been a delicious fantasy mischievously constructed by her overactive imagination? If so, this had to have been the cruelest joke it had ever played on her.

Trailing her fingers through her wavy locks, Bonnie took a deep breath and tried to retain some semblence of calm.

It was abnormally silent in this place – far more suitable for a library rather than a buzzing establishment like Murphy's typically was. There should be boisterous barmen about and patrons ordering up plate fulls of fried eggs, bacon, black pudding and soda bread.

The solid pine bar gleamed beneath a gentle stream of sunlight that bled through the nearby window. Spotless glasses dangled from the brass rack that hung above the bar and all the cutlery had been neatly arranged in a basket near the bottles of brandy.

Bonnie rose from her seat and ran her hands over the blue floral peasant dress that now sheathed her body. It was belted at the waist with sleeves that extended just beyond her elbows. Sandalwood toned riding boots adorned her size seven feet.

"Hello?" she called out softly.

She slid her fingertips along the length of the bar and quietly observed the wood-framed clock overhead. _7am_

I should have stayed in bed, she thought regretfully. At least there she would have been able to grab a couple hours of extra rest.

Her eyes slowly traveled lower and rested upon the black and white photograph she had been observing the day before. The aerial view of Kenmare was nothing short of breathtaking.

The pub stood exactly where it should. A couple blocks over was the library and just beyond the surrounding wall was...something that shouldn't have been there at all.

Her green eyes bulged from their sockets as she stared on in complete disbelief and a side order of confusion. On a large plot of uninhabited land stood the decaying remains of a grey cathedral.

Memories of her first vision of Kenmare came back to her in an instant. She had seen the arches reaching up toward the sky, then the marvelous array of colors that coated the building exteriors and then...The Three.

Bonnie felt goosebumps begin to sprout up along her forearms. She rubbed them hurriedly with her hands to stop them in their track.

There was a sense of overwhelming eerieness around her now. Her instincts were screaming "Run! Run! Run!"

To where, though?

She blinked over and over again just to make sure this wasn't some sort of optical illusion. About after five tries, it was clearly evident the ruins weren't going anywhere.

_This is crazy. They weren't there before. I know this. I checked! So where the hell did they come from? Did they just appear overnight out of thin air?_

Bonnie glanced down at the year inscribed in gold lettering at the bottom right hand corner. She gasped as soon as they became clear. _2010_

Now she felt more unbalanced than ever. How could she not notice something that was supposedly still standing tall? Was she going nuts?

Were Fiona, Damon and Stefan going crazy too? They never saw the ruins.

_Maybe something happened to them._ It wasn't a wholly illogical thought. Perhaps there had been a fire or some great disaster that destroyed the ruins just before they arrived in Ireland.

It was the only reasonable explanation as to why they had been photographed this year and had evidently disappeared since then. There was only one way to find out.

She needed to walk through the front door and head in the direction of the wall. As simple as that sounded, she couldn't help the sudden chill that crept down her spine.

Her eyes gravitated toward the entrance way and a thought crept into her mind. What if The Three stood in wait for her beyond the entrance way?

She gulped hard and willed her feet to move cautiously. If they were out there, she needed to be careful.

As Bonnie came closer to the exit, she peered through the glass door. Nothing in sight except for the vibrantly colored buildings she had come to admire in the old city.

Casting another glance back at the empty bar, she slowly set foot on the pavement. The streets were completely devoid of the usual passerbys and neighborhood residents.

The local church steeple towered overhead to her right while the stone wall stood to her far left. So far, she could glimpse very little beyond its ancient confines.

_Elora, if you can hear me...please help me figure out what this all means._

A cool breeze swept through the air, lashing her cheeks with its force. Bonnie gazed up at the blue sky and watched as it began to turn an ominous hue. Greys and blues swirled together in mysterious unison as she marched on.

This was the way her vision of The Three in Kenmare had begun.

Her teeth began to chatter as the wind became incredibly chilly, causing her body to become covered in goosebumps. She broke out into a frenzied pace, zig-zagging toward the wall.

She charged in the drection of the wall, balling up her fists as she drew nearer. Her breathing became more labored and pretty soon, she found herself gasping for air.

Wincing a the sudden pain forming in her chest, she glanced down at the red amulet and found it flickering uncontrollably once more. _Oh no. Not another possession. Tabitha, no!_

Shutting her eyes for a millisecond, the witch prepared herself for yet another painful ordeal. Seconds later, she ploughed into the rough stone and yelped at the violent contact her flesh made with it.

"Shit!" she screamed, rubbing her throbbing temple.

The amulet glowed on and still, no possession. She had been so certain Tabitha had been intent on seizing her body again.

Bonnie grimaced at the sight of blood on her fingers. She had garnered herself a battle scar and with inordinate amounts of shame inside her warrior heart, her lofty opponent had been a wall.

She slowly turned her head to the left and caught sight of the sliver of space carved into the stone barrier. She ran as fast as her feet would afford her and glanced at the space beyond.

There as nothing there! _Alright, now I'm pissed. What the fuck is going on?!_

Skillfully, she morphed herself into the thinnest specimen she could and passed through the opening. She now stood in an open, empty field of green, surrounded by majestic alders.

The wind swirled around her more forcefully now, sweeping her dark, luminous locks into a state of disarray. Looking up at the sky, she observed the way the colors had deepend in intensity, almost as though it were fueled by great fury and passion.

"Déan iad a fheiceáil!"

The familiar feminine voice hissed lyrically into her ears. Bonnie swiveled from side to side hoping to find some trace of who had uttered those words. The same person who had been guiding her along on this strange journey.

"Who are you?" she shouted. No reply.

"Who are you?" she repeated, growing somewhat impatient. "Tabitha? Is that you?"

All that could be heard was the howling of the wind. Bonnie clutched the red stone and another thought donned on her. _"Elora?"_

"Make them see," she hissed again.

"Make them see what?" the little witch cried. "What do you want me to show them?"

There was complete quiet for a few seconds. "Show them what you see."

She tried to cobble together the pieces of the seriously messed up puzzle as quickly as she could. "Show them what I see? I don't see anything here!" she replied with total frustration. "So why don't you show me what I'm supposed to show them so I at least know it's real!"

"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."

A powerful flash of light exploded before her eyes. Bonnie placed her arm protectively over her face to avoid the intense glare. Plumes of smoke enhanced the feeling of eerieness she had felt earlier on.

They were thick and covered everything around her, including the town and the stone wall.

Gradually the white smoke thinned. Her eyes had begun to water slightly from the sheer strength of the blast. Bonnie dabbed at her tear ducts with the sleeves of her dress and began to squint as dark shadows began to appear in front of her.

Her breath hitched then at the realization of what had just happened. Ask and you shall receive, she thought, completely baffled.

The ruins stood before her, arches stretching toward the sky, remnants of pews on either side and what appeared to be burial tablets denoting the presence of a casket just beneath the surface. It was here and it was roughly twice as large as Old Fell's Church.

She crept forward reluctantly before the shrill cries of a woman rang out. "Help me! Please! Someone! Anyone!"

Bonnie knew that voice all too well; it was that kind face she missed seeing the most. Elena Gilbert was her sister in every way that truly mattered - just the way Grams viewed her friendship with Maya.

The bond of sisterhood was among the most powerful forces on the face of the Earth. At least those were the words Grams had uttered when the two girls officially annointed one another 'best friends,' also known as 'keeper of my deepest, darket secrets' or 'trusty alibi when I've got a really hot date my mom and dad can't know about.'

"Elena!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Where are you?"

"Bonnie? Is that you?" the imprisoned teen inquired in slight disbelief.

"Yes, it's me," she confirmed. "Where are you?"

"I'm in their lair," the brunette answered weakly. "I'm so...tired, Bonnie. My body...I feel like this is the end."

"The hell it is!" the fiery witch responded, jaw clenching instinctively. "Come Hell or high water, I promise you I'll get you out of there! No one messes with the sisterhood. No one!"

"I love you, B," the slender mortal replied. Her voice cracked a tinge as Bonnie realized Elena was now on the verge of sobbing.

"I love you too, Elena. You're my best friend. And you know what best friends do?"

"What, B?" she continued, sounding more exhausted with each passing minute.

"They never give up on each other. That means I'll never give up on you."

She paused for a moment and felt a single tear drop trickle down her cheek. This wasn't how life was supposed to end. She and Elena were supposed to grow old and drive their husbands mad into their nineties.

They were going to sit on their porches together drinking sweet tea and gossiping 'til their faces turned blue and their stomachs began to ache from all the laughter. That was how life was supposed to be...before The Prophecy.

Bonnie felt a sudden vibration beneath her feet. It felt like the Earth was moving and if she didn't hang onto something sturdy, she would be swallowed by the ground or tossed a hundred feet.

"Elena!" she yelled.

"Bonnie!"

"I'll find you! I swear I will!" she promised her best friend.

"They dwell where there is no light. Remember that. Remember what I said!"

Her eyelids flew open and in an instant she was back at the cottage, locked in Damon's firm embrace. She found him staring thoughtfully down at her, propped on his elbow.

"Morning beautiful," he smiled, lightly tracing the outline of her lips with his index finger.

She looked beyond mortified and he knew exactly why. Their blood bond allowed him to see and experience every detail of her dreams - the sinful ones and the horrific ones.

"You're here," she breathed, feeling relieved that their night together had not been some fantasy sequence invented by her subconscious to drive her insane. He really had made love to her and she would never forget it.

"Where else would I be?" he chuckled, cupping her cheek with his palm. Gingerly, he lowered his head and planted a chaste kiss on her delectable mouth.

Bonnie reached up and explored the contours of his classically handsome face with her fingertips. "Damon..."

"You had another vision," he supplied, placing his hand around hers and placing a peck on top.

"How did you know?" she asked, slight confusion marring the exotic features of her face.

"The look on your face says it all," he lied. "What happened?"

"We need to talk to Fiona. There's something strange going on here."

"We got it on last night. I would hardly categorize that as a _kooky incident_," he jested, running his fingers through her hair.

"Damon," she sighed, looking more serious now. "I think I know where Elena is...I just don't know how to get there."

***

Chili dogs, french fries and Dr. Pepper may not have been great for the waistline, but they always had a way of enhancing a person's mood. Maybe that's why Caroline Forbes, Tyler Lockwood and Matt Donovan were lurched over a table, laughing out loud over their middle school years.

"Yeah, I was fashion challenged," Matt admitted reluctantly.

"Or as the legendary Cher Horowitz would say, _'ensembally challenged,'"_ Caroline threw in, paying homage to her favorite film, Clueless.

"_'Ensembally_ challenged?'" Matt smirked, quirking an eyebrow in her direction.

"Yup," she giggled. "Sweats are cool and all, but the ones you wear for phys ed should never make a cameo in any class that doesn't include breaking a sweat as a prerequisite."

"Leave the man alone," Tyler threw in. "He's a football god - right after yours truly, of course."

"Of course," the red haired boy laughed merrily. "Man, I don't think we've hung out together since-"

"Since the Elena years," the pretty blond chimed in. "Sorry for the reminder," she continued, noting her one millionth verbal slip up of the evening.

"It's okay," he replied. "I've gotta get over her sooner or later."

"I say sooner," Tyler urged him. "So we can start mackin' on the all the fine ladies whose initials are _not_ 'E.G.'"

"_Macking?_ Ick!" Caroline grimaced, placing her index finger in her mouth mockingly.

"What's wrong with my man gettin' his-"

"If you say _swerve on_, I'm gonna smack you upside the head," she interrupted him. "Girls don't want to be _macked on_. They want-"

"_More?" _Tyler replied teasingly in his most feminine voice. "Do you want starry skies, walks on the beach and some dude who'll sit at home with a tissue box on his lap while you bawl over _The Bridges of Madison County?_"

"_Excuse you_, but that is a great movie," she maintained, chucking a cucumber slice at Tyler's forehead. Unfortunately he was naturally gifted with quick reflexes and dodged the flying vegetable with great ease.

"Elena used to make me watch _Notting Hill_ like every time I came over," Matt reminisced, causing both Caroline and Tyler to eye him sympathetically. "Man, I think I can quote every one of Hugh Grant's lines now 'cause of her."

"You need to get laid," the dark-haired young man concluded matter of fact. "Knowing that much about a chick flick is basically grounds for me to revoke your man card."

"I dunno," Caroline began softly. "I think it's kind of...sweet."

Glancing up at the blue-eyed football ace, she offered him her most charming smile.

The truth was, if Caroline Forbes ever got captured by pirates and forced to set foot on the plank, she could just bat her lashes and flash those pearly whites and it would be more than enough to coax her captors into letting her go free. Then again, Elena would usually just breathe and get all the attention. _Bitch!_

_Is it normal to resent your best friend this much? Hmmm, I wonder..._

"You do?" Matt questioned, grinning at her support.

"Yeah. I do," she answered, her cheeks flushing just a tinge.

"Shit," Tyler interrupted. "Parental pow wow - 3 o'clock," he informed them.

Seated at a booth to their right were Tyler's parents and Caroline's mother. Whatever they were discussing, it had to be serious. Right now they all had intense expressions on their faces.

Mayor Lockwood held a thin notepad in his hands and appeared to be scribbling down point form notes in the worst chicken scratch Caroline had ever laid her contact sporting eyes on. This wasn't the first time she'd seen them congregating together over coffee, looking like they were planning some massive event.

This week alone they had gathered five times to her knowledge. Of course part of that knowledge was thanks to her natural ability to eavesdrop without ever getting caught.

"Wonder what they're talking about," she mused aloud.

"Probably some other black tie fundraiser," Tyler offered. "My mom's always lookin' for an excuse to act like a country club snob in public."

"No offense, but your mom does snooty on a daily basis," Caroline inserted.

"None taken," he replied, sipping on his Dr. Pepper. "She and my dad treat everyone who isn't born into money like second-class citizens." Vicki Donovan was one of many reminders of how rough it could be being the son of Charles and Dayna Lockwood.

"At least she's in your life, man," Matt replied. "My mom still acts like it's Spring Break everyday."

"My mom acts like Robocop," the quirky blond sighed, resting her chin on her arm. "Get home by 12, Caroline. _It's the law_," she finished in a jokingly gruff voice.

"Uh oh, looks like we've been spotted," Matt told them.

Uneasily, the trio smiled and waved at the parental units who looked as though they'd been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. "I wonder what they're up to," Caroline exclaimed softly.

"Beats me," Tyler replied with a shrug.

"Aren't you guys the least bit curious?" she egged them on.

"About what? They're parents. Sometimes they like to talk to one another," the red head threw in.

"Not like this," she persisted. "Look, I wasn't gonna say anything about it 'cause it's official police business, but-"

"Care, don't take this the wrong way, but secret keeping isn't your forte," Matt chuckled.

"Maybe not," she agreed. "Anyway, I was snooping around the basement the other day and I found these old journals that dated back to the inception of the town. One of them belonged to Ashwood Abbott."

"The former Mayor? Wasn't that guy around in like 1864?" Tyler pointed out.

"Yup," Caroline answered. "Anyway, I was thinking, 'what the heck is Ashwood Abbott's journal doing in our basement?' I mean, why isn't it locked in Denny Abbott's basement? Or Phoebe Ashwood? Or any Ashwood for that matter. Then I looked inside of it."

"What'd you find?" the boys pressed on.

"A list," she replied, leaning in closer. Beckoning them forward with her index finger, she brought her voice down to a hush tone. "Of names. Random names of people who lived in town along with either a checkmark or an 'x' beside them. I was about to go through the rest of it, but my mom got home, so I had to toss it back into the box. As I turned to leave, I saw a sheet of paper sticking out underneath a huge pile of books, so I grabbed it as fast as I could."

"What did it say?" Tyler queried.

"It was really weird. It was addressed to one of my ancestors. It was all drivel, except for the last part. 'Daniel, The Supernaturals are among us."

"Supernaturals?" the boys replied in unison.

"Like fairies and witches and werewolves - oh my!" Tyler mocked.

"Hey, if Supernaturals exist, then why not extraterrestrials?" Matt threw in teasingly. "I've got dibs on meeting E.T. first, man."

"You guys, be serious," Caroline continued, urging them to pipe down. "I mean, at least entertain the idea for a sec. There was that incident in the woods with Meredith Richards."

"Come on, Care. This is Looney Toons we're talkin' about here," the raven-haired boy offered. "Do you really think some mysterious man with wings attacked her and her little friends in the woods?"

"Tye's right," Matt groaned. "Besides, Supernaturals could've been a nickname for something."

"Or maybe it just means Supernaturals," she insisted.

"Come on, next thing you know, you're gonna be telling us you think The Shire really exists," the red head responded.

"It does. In New Zealand," Caroline replied, crossing her arms defensively. "Look, a lot of strange stuff has been happening around here lately. People have been disappearing, getting attacked by vicious animals. It just doesn't add up anymore. Something's going on. Aren't you a little curious what that is?"

They both eyed her reluctantly. If Caroline Forbes was any one thing in particular, it was persistent.

"So what, are we supposed to become the Scooby Gang or something?" Tyler joked. "Should we buy a blue van, hop in and call it the Mystery Machine?"

"No," she answered, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "I just think that it wouldn't hurt to do a little digging. I'll keep any eye on my mom. You can keep an eye on your folks, Tye and Matt..."

"I'll keep an eye on you two," he chuckled. "You really think something strange is going on, don't you?"

Caroline nodded her head continuously in response. "Just give it some thought, guys."

They each looked up again and found Sheriff Forbes speaking into her walkie talkie. "The woods near Old Fell's Church? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Maybe it's another animal attack," the curious blond pondered aloud. "Or maybe it's something else."

Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, she reached into her bag, grabbed her car keys and coat and began to leave. "Where are you going, Care?" Matt called after her.

"We're gonna take a little ride, boys," she grinned.

"We are?" Matt and Tyler replied almost simultaneously.

"We are," she answered with finality. "Mr. DeWitt is missing, Mr. Horowitz is dead and Mr. Saltzman is totally M.I.A., which basically means we have no homework. Why not kill a little time together - on a mission? We could launch our own investigation and call it-"

"What the hell is going on in Mystic Falls?" Matt offered with a smile.

She couldn't suppress the amused smirk that spread across her lovely features. Giggling in reply, the blond twirled around and continued walking, both young men hot on her kitten heels.

***

Daylight flooded through the windows of the cottage kitchen. Bonnie, Damon, Stefan and Fiona sat side by side around the wooden table for a spot of breakfast.

Of course both undead gentlemen had since finished off their supplies of human blood in their private quarters. That left both witches enough time to begin devouring the golden scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and delicious hashbrowns Bonnie had whipped together.

Taking a sip from her lightly creamed coffee, she slowly revealed the strange details of her vision. "Make them see what you see," Bonnie exclaimed, remembering just what the familiar Irish voice had said. "I saw those ruins in my first vision of Kenmare and last night as well."

"Well I've told you before, my darling. If there are any ruins beyond the stone wall, I've certainly never seen them," the copper-skinned witch replied.

Glancing sadly at Stefan, she recounted the frailty of Elena's voice and how she sobbed helplessly. She knew it was burning him up inside just thinking about her being held captive, tortured and bound.

Feasting on the blood of animals had kept the eternal teenager strong enough to fend off certain enemies, but there was no denying that Damon had been the more stalwart Salvatore. Feeding on humans kept him fully armed with the arsenal of nutrients needed to propel his supernatural abilities to new heights.

He was physically capable of delivering more vicious blows to his opponents and whenever he became injured, it took far less time to heal than it did for Stefan. It was a consequence of the choices they had made all those years ago.

Damon refused to deny himself. He lived his vampiric existence true to form, but he often wondered what over a century of repressed hunger would do to his brother, should he taste mortal flesh once more.

He eyed Stefan curiously then, sitting across from him in a green and blue plaid shirt and dark wash denim. His hair was messier than usual - more rebellious like his own dark locks.

Stefan had been keeping to himself much of the time after his first packet of blood. He seemed more brooding than usual, but who could blame him given the circumstances.

Long ago before his decision to feed on Bambi and her friends, the younger Salvatore had been capable of transforming himself. Damon had the crow and he had his own creature of the night.

They had been a tenacious duo, embarking on a journey just for a kill and a thrill. Flocking from one part of the country to the next, they masqueraded as merchants, lawyers, doctors and any other disguise that would allow themselves to weazle their way into the lives of unsuspecting females.

Then one night in Boston in 1905, Stefan charged at a small woman in an alley way, ravenous for his fill. They had been traveling for days without feeding and it drove him mad with want.

Unable to restrain himself, he lunged at her from behind and sank his teeth into her white flesh. By the time he had drained her of her fluids and silenced her pulse, he turned the mere mortal in his arms.

In the most appalling twist, the petite woman turned out to be a child. She couldn't have been much more than thirteen with long wavy flaxen locks, a full pout and a heaving bosom that would have convinced any man or woman she was older than her actual years.

Her face, on the other hand, was full of innocence and contorted by terror - the last expression to spread across her face before her final breath.

While it was true, he and Damon had embarked on a murderous rampage throughout the Northern United States, he made it a priority to steer clear of children. There was something about the way they looked desperately, pleadingly into your eyes. Even in his undead state, it managed to trigger the most profound sense of...remorse.

He flinched at the reminder of that nameless child in the blue dress with the wide eyes. She had been a great catalyst for his decision to abstain from mortal blood consumption.

It wasn't merely the fact that she was so young that had torn into him. He heard footsteps drawing near as he held her lifeless form in his arms.

Fleeing the scene, he flew from the ground onto a ledge where he could not be seen. A man carrying a hysterically crying baby slowly moved in the direction of the girl's body, now lying on the damp cobblestone.

He could hear every one of the stranger's thoughts when he came upon the corpse. That man was her father and the baby was her sister.

They were homeless and living on the streets of the great city. The memory of her ate away at him until one night he fought with Damon and left to journey their homeland by himself.

There would be no more killing. No more transformations. No more tragic nights where he wanted to ram himself chest first into a wooden stake.

He had become a vampire with a conscience. A total contradiction of his true nature.

He became instantly infatuated with Elena the moment he first lay his hazelnut eyes on the girl. Pinstraight chocolate locks, a long slender physique and a smile that was too similar to Katherine's for comfort.

But in those wide eyes, he saw one key distinguishing feature between both women. Elena had compassion for others.

She gave a damn about those around her, loved with all her heart and most of all, there wasn't a trace of narcissistic behavior on her part. They were different women - that much he was certain of.

The truth was, Stefan had known of the girl even before they had bumped into each other outside the boys' bathroom at Robert E. Lee. He had rescued her from the tragic car crash that had claimed her parents' lives.

One morning he had gone out, scowering the woods for something to eat when the unforgettable sound of the car hitting the barriers on Old Wickery Bridge rang through his hypersensitive ears. Then came the unmistakable splash as the vehicle plunged into the water, sealing the doors and making it impossible for any of the inhabitants to escape.

Stefan ran as fast as he could and found a man and women in their forties in the front seat. The gentleman was barely able to move and as he placed an arm about his waist to lift him, he pushed him away and pointed at the unconscious form in the back seat.

Her long hair had covered her face, but Stefan surmised enough that it was this man's daughter. He reluctantly let go of Elena's father and used all of his strength to tear the back door from its hinges in order to save her life.

By the time he had reached the muddy shore, he placed her on the grass and brushed her hair from her face. To say he was startled by the uncanny resemblence would be an incredible understatement.

Stefan could hear the sound of mortals running toward the scene of the crash. The pitter patter of footsteps drew nearer and he knew that within seconds someone would be here.

He lept behind an elm tree and watched as a young woman with red curly hair ran to the injured girl and began performing CPR on her. By the time she had been resusitated, Stefan coudln't peel his gaze from her.

He had to know her. There was nothing else he could do.

If this was Katherine Pierce, he needed to make sure she didn't hurt anyone else the way she had in 1864. Through records, documentation and simple observation, he deduced that this was in fact, a different person entirely.

But how on earth did they end up looking so much alike? There had to be a reason.

"Earth to Stefan," Fiona called jokingly. "You there, lad?"

"Uh yeah. I am," he smiled warmly. "Sorry. Just thinking..."

"About Elena," Bonnie sighed. "We'll get her back, Stefan. I promise. If it's the last thing I do."

"Well it won't be the last thing you do," Damon pointed out. "You're destined to spend an eternity with me, so I guess talk of lasts is basically null and void."

"He's got a point," the Irish witch offered.

"Look, the voices in my dream was obviously trying to tell me something about the ruins. It's important. I don't think I would've seen it again if it weren't," Bonnie rationalized, sipping her coffee. "Is it possible that maybe...maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Damon asked, stealing a strip of bacon from her plate.

"Now before you all think I've gone crazy, just humor me for a second. What if the ruins really are beyond the wall-"

"And we just can't see 'em?" Damon interrupted. "That's impossible. It's not like hiding - I dunno, a coffee mug," he offered, holding his blood stained blue one up.

"Actually...it's precisely like that," Fiona chimed in, looking suddenly intrigued.

The trio glanced quizzically at her, wondering how on earth two things so seemingly different could possibly be the same. Since 'Operation Rescue Elena' began, it had been one supernatural suprise after the next.

Bonnie's powers had grown by leaps and bound. She had learned more than just how to make feathers and leaves float.

Technically that's the pace she should have been moving at - if she were any other normal witch in the history of the world. Clearly, that was not the case.

She had essentially been privy to the advanced times twenty version of magical education. Not even Hogwarts would have schooled her this quickly.

It seemed Elora had great things in store for her. Her visions had become so vivid and spot on recently.

So far she had tackled the elements, received an impromptu lesson on how to unlock mystical portals and handled any other spells she had thrown her way.

"Have you ever heard of a Phantasm spell?" she asked, rising from her seat.

The witch sauntered from the room into her study and retrieved an encyclopedic-length book. Flipping through the pages, she settled on a section smack dab in the center. "Ah, here we go. 'Phantasms may be cast in order to present the illusion that one object is present, while in reality, another is. Typically, the energy required to perform such a spell is found within the bodies of witches and warlocks proficient in the study of Concealment. It takes a great many years to master these mystical art forms, for they have been known to be physically draining. It is strongly recommended that novice Supernaturals abstain from attempting Concealments or Phantasms alone. Have an instructor most knowledgable and studied in The Craft nearby at all times.'"

"So you think The Fior cast a Phantasm on the land?" Bonnie inquired, eyes wide with wonderment.

"Aye," she replied, placing the book on the table and snapping up another slice of bread. "Look, there's only one way to find out if we're right. We must pay a visit to the stone wall."

"I hate to put a damper on your brilliant plan, Broom Hilda, but what do we do about the townspeople?" Damon chucked in, sliding another fork full of buttery scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"What d'you mean?" Fiona replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I dunno about you, but if I've spent my entire life growing up in a town where there are no ruins beyond the stone wall, it might seem a little strange if I wake up one morning and boom! There they are!" he offered.

"They won't notice a thing," the witch answered. "No one in town has any knowledge of the ruins, therefore they must have been built before downtown Kenmare ever came into existence. If the mortals don't believe in the presence of the building itself, even if you cast a Phantasm, they'll never see it. They'll only see what they know of. And all they know of are trees and fields of green beyond the wall."

"So how do we remove the veil?" Bonnie asked, leaning forward.

Fiona sat in front of her and brought her mug to the centre of the table. She closed her eyes slowly and began to chant an incantation. "East, West, Thuaidh agus Theas. tairiscint a dhéanamh mé duit anois, agus é a iarraidh go mbeadh an vanish. In ionad in ionad leis an méid a chónaíonn in m'intinn's tsúil."

Gradually the blue mug began to vanish. The trio stared at the empty space before them and became completely transfixed as a pitcher of lemonade took its place.

Damon reached out and grabbed the object, pouring himself a glass and allowing it to linger on his taste buds. "Tastes like the real thing."

"That's because it is the real thing - but it doesn't mean that mug of coffee isn't still there somehow. Watch and learn, boys."

Shutting her eyes tightly, she began to chant another spell. This time a gust of wind blew through the room as she finished.

"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."

Bonnie watched in amazement as the pitcher of transluscent liquid transformed into the azure ceramic mug. She couldn't help but still feel completely baffled as to how she and Fiona would perform this exact spell on a whole building.

"That's what you want us to do to the ruins?" the young witch questioned in disbelief. "How?"

"Why don't we take a trip into the woods for a little practice session?" she offered.

Bonnie sighed deeply and nodded her head. She had to save Elena; there were no ifs, ands or buts about it.

The women took off and headed deep into the brush of trees. Damon and Stefan watched as their petite forms disappeared into the melding of greens - emerald, olive and sage in hue.

There was something so incredibly sensational about a woman who was gifted in The Craft, Damon mused as an irresistible smile spread across his face. He had known many witches in his 170 years of existence and yet none had affected him the way a certain little witch had.

She challenged him right from the get go, fascinated him with her seeming disdain for him and obvious physical beauty. There was just something about her that tore his emotional armor to shreds and unleashed in him emotions that had long since been scattered to the wind.

Suddenly he gave a damn about someone other than himself - and Katherine. He wanted her to be happy, safe and wrapped in his arms.

This is what Stefan had been going on about. Exactly the type of romantic drivel he had scorned him for - and yet now it was no longer nonsense. It was real because she made it real.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Stefan interrupted his thoughts. He stood with his arms folded over his chest, leaning against the window frame. Damon stood across, leaning his head against the glass.

"What day?" the blue-eyed vampire inquired, quirking an eyebrow at him in return.

"The day you lost your cold, black heart to someone who wasn't Katherine," he replied simply.

"And you think today is that day?" Damon queried, offering up his trademark smug smirk.

"Actually, I think that was last night," Stefan chuckled in response, sauntering over to the table to clean up. "You know, in the library."

"I have no idea what you mean, little brother."

"_'I can't believe I had sex with Damon Salvatore last night' _- I believe that telling declaration went through Bonnie's mind about ten times during breakfast," he laughed, placing a few dishes in the sink. "Care to help?" he gestured, lifting a mug.

"Dishes were never my forte," the dark-haired vampire lazily replied. "Besides, you're the squeaky clean Salvatore. Maybe it's best I just sit back and watch while you finish up here."

"You care about her," Stefan continued, filling the sink with scolding hot water. He paused momentarily and glanced down at the white ceramic plate in his hand. "The way I care for Elena."

His forehead became etched with lines of a man truly distraught and overcome by the worst kind of grief imaginable. Damon knew this would only heighten the affect of his transformation now that he had tasted human blood again.

If Stefan's desire for vengeance upon The Fior hadn't been scorching hot before, it was now a hundred times that with the intensity that only mortal blood could ignite. He would exact a swift, decisive, brutal revenge upon anyone who got in his way.

At least that's how the old Stefan Salvatore had approached his enemies. Back in the day, he had accumulated quite a few of those.

His eyebrows were furrowed now, lips parted as he thought of Elena. Damon wondered if he looked that way whenever he worried about Bonnie.

Was he slowly becoming the little pussy he had accused his brother of transforming into after feasting his eyes - and his loins - on the leggy brunette? Was he about to have "Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong" or "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" on heavy rotation in his head? _Fuck no._

"How are you?" he asked his brother, watching him vigorously tending to the washing up.

"Mood-wise or consuming human blood wise?" Stefan inquired.

"I think I'll go with human blood consumption for one thousand, Alex," he answered, offering up his best imitation of the Jeopardy host. "Can we all expect your little alter ego to grace us with his presence again?"

"You mean the mini badass you used to go flying with?" the teenaged vampire offered.

"It can't be easy," Damon began.

"What can't?"

"You've repressed your blood lust for so long. Defied the very nature of our kind for over a hundred years. It's gotta be hard now - keeping the cravings at bay."

Damon observed the way the young man's jaw clenched at the mere mention of his lack of restraint. Stefan had made it his priority to maintain a regimented diet of Thumper, Bambi and any other fury creature Disney could animate.

"I'll manage," he exclaimed. "I haven't exactly run off and sucked all of Ireland dry."

"Yet," Damon quickly supplied.

"Not ever." Silence lingered between them for a moment. "I just want her back. I'll do anything. My immortality for her release, if it comes to that."

Damon felt a familiar emotion tugging incessantly at his chest. Maybe Bonnie had been right about his feelings for his brother.

Either way, he'd never admit it to her. If he did, he'd be short a million bucks, as per the terms of their friendly bet.

"Don't be stupid," he groaned, tilting his head back against the sheet of glass. "Immortality was a gift bestowed upon you and yours truly long ago. You wouldn't even know the fair Elena if you had died an old man in your bed."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But what good is eternal life if you can't be with the one you love?"

"You going all Hallmark on me again?"

"Could you be serious for once?" Stefan slammed the ceramic plate down with great force. He was consumed by frustration and now a few cracked shards of were all that remained of the white disk he had been holding just moments before.

Damon studied the strained expression on his face. Tiny yellow veins began to bleed themselves into existence beneath his brown eyes. They had since turned the shade of coal.

Stefan's fangs had protruded. They had slammed onto his tongue with such force that he could taste his own blood seeping through small puncture wounds.

"Shit!" he yelped. The vampire growled low and took a deep breath.

The sapphire-eyed man stepped forward. "Do you need me to h-"

"I'm fine!" he shouted. "I don't need your help. I'm fine, okay?"

The old Stefan had been significantly moodier - that much he could recall with great clarity. There had been an edge to him, so foreign to "Buzzkill Bob," as he preferred to address him on occasion.

"You know, I remember a time where all I did was scower the southwest in search of fine dining opps and the best bourbon money could by," Damon rambled on, as though nothing had happened. "I got what I wanted, but not what I needed."

"You have needs?" his brother eyed him incredulously.

"Maybe," he responded, rolling his eyes.

Stefan watched him knowingly before gazing out the window again. "Feels strange, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Love."

"Who says this is-"

The brown-eyed young man cut him off swiftly. "Go ahead. Bask in denial. It's been your armor of choice for well over a century." The yellow veins began to recede.

"Actually, black leather has been my armor of choice - and it suits me perfectly," Damon replied with a grin. He stared into his brother's eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

Stefan returned his intense gaze. _You'd kill for her._

_Give the man a prize._

_You'd die for her._

"Perhaps..." Damon's voice trailed off then. "In the vampiric sense. I mean, we already, kinda did the whole dying thing ages ago."

_There's the other suit of armor you wear so well. Humor. Just another way to deflect questions and quell emotions._

"Stop rubbing that psych degree from Harvard in my face," he reminded him with a roll of his baby blues. "I could've used my engineering degree to blow you up, but I didn't. I resisted the temptation. I know, very Stefan like of me."

Here they were again, sparring with one another like they had done back at the boarding house - before The Prophecy ever came to their attention.

"So, when will the Caped Crusader fly again?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ignoring his question, the younger Salvatore tilted his head in a recollective pose. There were so many things he had yet to reveal to Elena about his earlier existence.

Would she love him the same if she knew?

He stared at Damon a while longer and wondered what her reaction would be when she found out about him and Bonnie. Saying she would be utterly pissed didn't cut it.

_Damon! Help us! Please!_

The desperate plea filled his brain and sent him wild with fury. Suddenly spurred into a rage he couldn't contain, the vampire lept from his lax position by the window and bolted into the woods.

Bonnie had cried out for him and he had no intention of failing her.


	13. Chapter 13

_Hello Bamon fans and readers in general! I am so sorry I kept you waiting this long for an update. I've just been really busy and I needed to edit, re-edit and then edit some more before I posted this ridiculously long chapter. _

_So here we are at lucky number 13 and what else can I say except that it is action packed - and then some! It definitely sets the stage for some other huge moments we'll see in future installments. Speaking of which, I'm capping "Something Supernatural" at 20 chapters in total because if I go past that, I don't think this story will ever end! Haha, as much as I love writing it, this is basically going to be my last fan fic because now I truly understand how much time and effort go into creating these works of fiction. _

_I have so much respect and mad love for everyone who shares their work on . You guys are amazing - especially you Bamon writers ;). Also, a massive thank you goes out to everyone who has read or commented on this story. Thank you so much!_

_Alright, so I've got a few song picks for this chapter. I've been watching a lot of Bamon mvids lately and I really must encourage you guys to check out one recent addition - a video done to the song "Different" by Acceptance. That song will likely be featured in another chapter coming up soon. _

_On another note, I understand there's been some animosty directed at Bonnie since this week's episode of TVD. I just want to say, I still adore her and one day, so will Damon ;)._

_Soundtrack for Chapter 13:_

_"Whatever It Takes" by Lifehouse (Because the Bamon mvid done to this rocks!)_

_"Breathe In Breathe Out" by Mat Kearney_

_"Resistance" by Muse (So very appropriate for the tone of this story)_

_"First Floor People" by Barcelona_

**Chapter 13: The Savior**

Vengeance. He would unleash it swiftly and brutally upon the creature who dared to lay a hand on her

Damon tore through the thick brush of trees like a bat out of hell. He growled low in animalistic rage as the branches and bristles carved red scratches momentarily into his alabaster cheeks as he whipped past.

The desperation in her voice had summoned the beast inside of him. "Damon!"

She sounded so terrified and distraught, which only urged his feet to move more rapidly through the maze of alders.

He could feel the transformation taking hold. Yellow veins quickly protruded beneath his gaze, now a shadowy, menacing obsidian shade.

Every feeling inside of her coursed through his veins – yet another consequence of their _'blood bond.'_

First he felt the intense rush of fear that swept through her diminutive form. Then there was an awesome surge of rage.

Finally a profound sense of shock and awe overcame him.

Whoever this creature was, the pain they were about to endure at his hands would be nothing short of raw and excruciating. No one was allowed to touch Bonnie Bennett. No one.

What he felt for her transcended the purely physical. He _needed _for her to be safe – this from a man typically unaccustomed to having _any needs_ at all.

He had an arsenal of cutting remarks and bucket loads of sarcasm at the ready for the rest of the world. But for her, he had..._feelings._

They were real and constantly flowing through his mind – and body. Even when he tried to cast her out of his imagination, there she was.

Caramel skin and olive green eyes invaded his dreams and penetrated his every waking thought. Once upon a time, he thought feelings were impossibility for his cold black heart to muster. _Once upon a time..._

Damon leapt over a fallen tree trunk with the agility of a jungle cat. He was a heat-seeking missile in concentrated pursuit of its target.

The fragrance of her lavender shampoo filled his nostrils and instantly, he knew she was nearby. Within seconds, he had bridged the gap between the cottage and Bonnie.

He stood by her side at the center of a circular formation of trees. They towered around them like the majestic pillars of an ancient palace.

Her cornflower blue sweater dress was slightly torn along the shoulder. The neat up do she had fashioned into place was now a mass of rebellious raven curls.

Her eyes were wide, as though she had just witnessed some shocking, disastrous event. Whatever it was, it left her lips quivering uncontrollably.

Bonnie's stare remained fixated on a particular patch of grass. Damon followed her line of sight and was completely taken aback by what he saw.

Two bodies lay nearby. One was charred beyond recognition, streaks of smoke rising from the creature that had now been rendered a life-sized lump of coal.

The distinctly foul stench of burnt flesh hung high in the morning air.

Fiona was lying face down on her stomach, though the sizable gash on her temple was still visible. Crimson colored syrup continued to ooze from the fresh cut.

Damon could feel his gums begin to tingle involuntarily. The air was rife with witch's blood.

He glanced down again at Bonnie and found her staring back pleadingly. She needed comfort, a reassurance that whatever had transpired was over.

Cupping her cheeks gently with his palms, Damon pressed his forehead against hers affectionately. "What happened?" he inquired.

He tried to soften the tone of his voice for her sake, but the rage he had been running with was still very much alive inside of him. He had every intention of tearing that creature ruthlessly to shreds.

"H-he was going to k-kill her," she stammered, eyes beginning to water. "I had to stop him, Damon. There was no other way."

Bonnie did this? His Bonnie?

Of course, he thought. Damon could still recall the night in the woods when Fiona had given Bonnie her first lesson on how to command the elements.

"_Every witch has her forte." _Those were the precise words the Irish witch had used.

Suddenly all he could envision was the petite teenager standing at the center of an enflamed circle, looking poised in her prayer stance. There was something so incredibly sensational about that much power residing in the very tiny hands of the woman he lo...cared a great deal for.

A rush of wind whipped past them then. Stefan.

He knelt by Fiona's side and immediately began searching for a pulse. "She's alive," he shouted.

Bonnie and Damon watched as he lifted his wrist to his mouth. "A little something to heal your wounds," the vampire spoke softly.

The transformation took hold in a matter of seconds. His eyes, so typically filled with compassion, were now an ominous charcoal hue.

Stefan licked his lips unwittingly. He brushed aside a rebellious lock of dark hair from her temple and began to stare hypnotically at the fresh cut just beneath.

The blood had begun to flow steadily over her swan-like neck onto the earth. He leaned in and languorously inhaled her scent.

Tilting his head to one side, a thoughtful expression appeared on his boyishly handsome face. Damon and Bonnie observed him with growing trepidation.

The blood of a witch was ambrosial, something meant to be savored. It was also _highly addictive._

"What's he doing?" Bonnie breathed unsteadily.

"I...don't know," Damon lied with far less grace than he had intended. He knew exactly where his brother's mind had suddenly drifted off to.

_Keep it together, little brother._ Damon eyed Stefan boldly.

He was prepared to pounce on him at any second if he leaned forward and did the unthinkable.

The eternal youth growled aloud. The ferocious, predatory sound echoed throughout the woods.

Instantly, Damon felt Bonnie's grip tighten around his hand.

_That woman you're thinking of snacking on isn't just some random witch. It's Fiona, Stef. And do you remember what you told me the other night?_ The brothers stared at one another in total silence for what seemed like an eternity.

_You know you can't hurt her._

He seemed so conflicted now. Stefan's facial features were contorted by a whirlwind of emotions.

There was a ravenous glint in his eyes, but great hesitance in his heart. Feeling his frustration reach its peak, the younger Salvatore yelped in pain as his fangs plunged mercilessly into the delicate surface of his tongue. "Fuck!"

"Tsk, tsk," Damon teased. "Someone needs his mouth washed out with soap."

Stefan glared menacingly at his older brother. The thought of lunging at him right now was most appealing, but the vampire refrained.

He couldn't bring himself to hurt Fiona – no matter how great the temptation. She didn't deserve that.

His eyes began to soften again. Now he simply looked like a guilt-ridden, lost boy.

He mentally scolded himself repeatedly. How could he, even for a second, entertain the thought of feasting on the one person who had shown him such maternal kindness?

In such a short period of time, Fiona Reid had managed to affect him in a way he had never experienced before. His own biological mother had perished while giving birth to him, leaving him completely devoid of maternal care in his formative years.

Then along came the quirky witch with her sass and brilliant composure under the most trying of circumstances. She took care of him.

Hell, she even took care of Damon; his temperament alone would be reason enough for anyone to go racing for the front door.

Not to mention, she had nurtured Bonnie's growth as a witch.

He and Fiona did everything a mother and son should do. They set the dinner table together, prepared supper together and she offered him a consoling shoulder to lean on whenever thoughts of Elena being held captive sent him reeling over the edge.

There was no way in hell he was going to compromise this newfound bond just for a taste of blood.

Mustering all the resistance inside of him, he retracted his canines and lifted her from the forest floor.

"We should head back to the house," he exclaimed, offering Bonnie an apologetic smile.

She watched the way the tiny yellow veins gradually receded. Stefan Salvatore was back and for that, she was truly grateful.

"The man – he came from out of nowhere," Bonnie explained, eyes still wide in disbelief.

She sat before the unlit fireplace, clasping a maroon colored pillow. Damon was right beside her, one arm slung around her shoulder, gingerly rubbing circles along her upper arm.

"He said...he..." Her eyebrows were furrowed in sudden fright.

Damon felt her body tense. He wanted so badly to make her fears subside and show her that she would be safe with him.

First there was the little matter of that body in the woods. Stefan and Damon had since disposed of the charred remains the best way they knew how.

They reduced it to ashes and buried the dust beneath the soil in Fiona's backyard.

"What did he say?" Damon urged her to go on.

Bonnie leaned her head against his sinewy shoulder. She shuddered as the words rolled painfully off her tongue. "The Witch must die."

He could count to ten, take deep breaths or attempt any other exercise designed to quell rage, but it wouldn't have worked. The mere thought of anyone harming Bonnie made his blood boil.

Damon tilted her chin up until their eyes met and did his best to reassure her. "No one is going to die. No one. You got that?"

He felt her body loosen up and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. Stefan amusedly observed his brother's uncharacteristic show of tenderness.

_So that's how a man who's not in love acts?_

Damon rolled his eyes and offered his brother a taunting remark. _Men who are in love usually have wrinkled foreheads, furrowed brows and a raging hero complex. You know, the usual sad sap traits that are in all your favorite books._

_At least this sap isn't in denial. _There was no one Stefan could think of who ever got under Damon's skin the way Bonnie did. There was, of course, Katherine Pierce – now lying weak, crusty and deteriorated beneath Old Fell's Church.

"They fought," Bonnie continued shakily. "He sent a blast of energy hurling toward the tree. It knocked Fiona out cold. Then..." Her voice trailed off then as her mind became flooded with memories of how frightened she had felt witnessing the supernatural duel.

Damon laced his pale fingers through hers. Peering up at him from beneath a thick, dark fan of lashes, she sighed.

"He began to chant in Gaelic. The words – I didn't recognize them – but he sounded so...sinister. It was almost like he was hissing them...like a snake. Then I saw him lower his hands and it was like...like all the energy from her body was flowing into him. I had to stop it."

"Which explains the flames," Stefan inserted, seated beside a still slumbering Fiona.

"They just shot out from my fingertips," she replied. Bonnie stared at the meticulously polished tips, still surprised by the sheer power that sprung forth. "I don't know how, but when I saw him sucking the life right out of her...it was like my body just knew. It knew what to do even before I did."

Fire was her body's natural defense mechanism. The thought alone made him hot and bothered suddenly.

He had gone racing through the woods like some knight in shining armor, plucked straight from the pages of some twisted fairytale where the undead walked among the living. Except this "damsel in distress" was really no damsel at all; she was fully capable of saving herself.

"You're a real force to be reckoned with, you know that, my dear?"

The familiar sweet lilt caused the trio to turn in unison. "Fiona!" Bonnie beamed, reaching out to envelop the Irish witch in her warmth.

"Careful there," she groaned, as their bodies collided.

Bonnie hastily apologized, causing the copper-skinned woman to chuckle. "It's alright, darling."

Reaching out, she stroked the little witch's cheek with her index finger. "You saved my life. For that, I am...forever indebted to you."

"You owe me nothing," Bonnie replied quickly. "You've pretty much been our guardian angel since Dublin. You owe me noth-"

"I think you'll find I'm very old fashioned. And very stubborn," she interjected.

Attempting to rise from the emerald sofa, Fiona placed a hand on her temple and tried to ignore the deeply distressing feeling of the room spinning 'round and 'round. "That rotten son-of-a-bitch," she muttered.

"So the good witch has a potty mouth after all," Damon smirked.

"Good witch, my arse," she responded with a cheeky smile. "This old bat's got more tricks up her sleeve than you can shake a stick at, _little tyke_."

Bonnie and Stefan exchanged cheerful glances. If there was one thing Fiona did well – aside from casting spells – it was most definitely goading Damon.

They shifted their gazes and found him almost foaming at the mouth. Damon rarely allowed anyone to make a jest at his expense, but it seemed there was a mutual sense of respect between him and Fiona.

Her facial features gradually became sterner, as she cast a glance in Stefan's direction. "There's something you should know, lad." Her brown eyes were filled with such compassion and worry now.

"That man was a henchman of The Fior."

His jaw clenched. "How do you know?"

"The markings on his robe indicated as much," she sighed. "The upside-down clover with a dagger pierced through the center. The lone drop of blood beneath. It's the symbol of The Chosen One. The Fior clansman whose task it is to seek out that which The Three desire most."

"The Witch," Stefan sighed.

"How...original," Bonnie scoffed. "Taking a beautiful symbol like the four-leaf clover and corrupting it for their own twisted purposes. History repeating, anyone?"

Grasping her Nazi swastika reference immediately, Fiona nodded in agreement. "Aye, m'dear."

Damon eyed his younger brother as he sat with his jaw clenched and forehead etched with lines of distress. Every savage thought that ran through Stefan's mind played loud and clear inside of his brain.

Tonight the old Stefan would return – for blood, for revenge and most of all, for the woman he loved.

"That bastard who attacked you and Bonnie," the eternal teen inserted with a scowl. "Was he the one who stole Elena from me?"

"More than likely," Fiona confirmed. "The Three only assign one warlock the monumental task."

"That's stupid," Damon scoffed. "So they leave the monumental task to one inept man witch?"

"Just be thankful that man witch is inept," she reminded him. "Otherwise our fair Bonnie would be..."

She couldn't bring herself to say the words; instead she merely sighed and rubbed the witch's arm in a calming gesture.

Stefan stared intensely at Bonnie then. "You gave that son-of-a-bitch _exactly what he deserved_."

Though she understood his pain, the little witch was still digesting the reality that she had just killed someone. Magic, spells, the odd potion – that was the extent of her witchcraft education before The Prophecy of Tabitha Bellwain entered her life.

Now the barbaric nature of Supernatural warfare was staring her smack dab in the eyes and all she could do was wield her greatest weapon – apparently fire. Now she just had to harness her powers and use them to save Elena.

Hearing every thought that flowed through her brain, Fiona took a deep breath and with one frustrated swipe, combed through her dark wavy locks with her fingers. "I think it's about time we finesse our little plan of attack for tonight."

"Fiona," Bonnie began, looking incredibly worried. "Are you sure you're alright? I mean, after what happened in the woods-"

"I'll be fine," she insisted, not allowing her to get another word of concern in edgewise. "Look, I can easily brew up a batch of healing serum for the wound and then I'll be as good as new. I promise."

"I can help," the little witch offered.

"Well thank you for the offer, my dear. But if you really want to help me, you should get some rest as soon as we're done mapping out our plan of attack," Fiona exclaimed. "Battling The Three is no small feat. We've got a long night ahead of us."

Nodding her agreement, Bonnie immersed herself wholeheartedly in the task at hand.

There was no way she would allow her best friend to be condemned to yet another painful night in The Fior's dank, depressing lair. She would bring her home – at any cost.

"Ew, I think I just saw a field mouse," Caroline squirmed softly.

Reaching out, she instinctively clung to Matt Donovan's bicep and tried to stifle the panicked shriek that was threatening to work its way up her esophagus. The red-haired football ace smiled amusedly in response and gave her hand a playful squeeze.

"Care, you're 5'4". I don't think a mouse is gonna stand a chance against you," he winked.

Feeling a tad silly, she slowly let go and turned back to find Tyler eying them curiously. The dark-haired teen grinned mischievously; Matt sure was being nice to Caroline tonight – _really nice._

They had cautiously tailed Sheriff Forbes from The Grill to the woods near Old Fell's Church for half an hour in Tyler's new black Mini Cooper. Matt's red pick-up truck was just too bright and Caroline's custom painted powder blue Civic was obviously too recognizable.

It was hard enough trying to follow a cop without getting caught, but Sheriff Forbes was a whole other level of cop du jour. It was like she had eyes at the back of her head – and just about every other part of her body.

Caroline scrunched her face in pain as sharp branches scraped across her pale bare legs. It was hard enough walking in three-inch designer heels and a pink summer dress, but as her standby motto went, beauty is pain and pain is beauty.

The only problem was beauty was now becoming a massive thorn in her side – or pain in Matt Donovan's firm bottom... _Boy do those jeans fit right. Levi's, you've made a believer out of me._

She couldn't suppress the cheeky smile that spread across her adorable creamy white face. Even though she had known Matt since pre-school, the idea of dating him had been off limits.

His heart belonged to Elena and as far as she or anyone else knew, it still did. That puppy-dog look in his eyes each time she passed by was confirmation enough.

As the tall blades of grass grew shorter and the bushes became less dense, the trio found themselves crawling on their hands and knees through the dark forest. Matt's dark washed denim had begun to develop green splotches, while Caroline's knees had begun to turn an irritated crimson hue with specks of dirt scattered around.

Tyler groaned softly behind them, his brand new fitted Calvin Kleins now dingy with dirt and grass stains.

"Great. Brand new and covered in dirt and probably dead bugs," he remarked sarcastically.

Turning to face his friend, Matt chuckled lightly. "Dude. It's called a _washing machine_. Use it."

Barely noticing their laundry-centric conversation, Caroline was stopped in her tracks by flashlights suddenly pointed in their direction. "Shhh. Guys, shut up."

They tried to stay as still as possible behind the trunks of elms and small bushes with olive green leaves.

"It's alright. It's me," a female voice called out.

Simultaneously, they breathed a sigh of relief. It was Sheriff Forbes they had been flashing their lights at.

Glancing across the field, Caroline saw her mother kneel down beside something sheathed by a black tarp. The other officers looked understandably fatigued and utterly disturbed.

Officer Rodriguez with his curly black hair, tan complexion and oh so noticeable biceps, was speaking seriously to her mother. No doubt he was filling her in on what they had come across.

Was it another Robert E. Lee teacher? Perhaps another student? Or maybe it was..._a Supernatural_.

"So what have we got here, George?" she addressed the officer.

"One badly decomposed body," he explained.

"How bad?" she queried, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing five, maybe six months buried beneath the soil. Won't know for sure, though 'til forensics gets their hands on the body," he sighed.

"Who found the remains?"

Officer Rodriguez leaned forward. "A couple of 15-year-olds stumbled upon 'em. They were testing out some contraption for the upcoming science fair at Robert E. Lee."

"Designed to seek out dead bodies?" she continued sarcastically, lifting the tarp just a touch.

"Not quite," he smirked. "Two boys were lookin' for gold."

"But they found far more than they were bargaining for," she added, rolling her eyes. "Where are they now?"

"With Ketchum at the station. Their moms are supposed to pick 'em up soon," Rodriguez offered. "They said the machine went nuts when they reached this patch of grass. Then they got their shovels-"

"And dug us up one deteriorating body," she finished with an exasperated sigh. "Hopefully we'll be able to get a positive ID on the vic sometime soon. Maybe dental records-"

"Yeah, about that..." The discomfort was a little more than evident in the officer's voice. He slowly lifted the edge of the tarp.

Reaching for a pair of latex gloves in her back pocket, she placed them snugly over her hands and began to gently lift the tender flap that appeared to be the victim's upper lip. Elizabeth Forbes gasped at the sight of two extended canines too distinct for comfort.

"Those fangs," she exclaimed, still transfixed by their sharpness. "Keep close tabs on those forensics results. I want them on my desk – _ASAP_. I want absolute discretion from everyone here. We can't let this little discovery make it onto the 6 o'clock news."

Unbeknown to the uniformed officers, the teens huddled together nearby had heard every last word that fell from their lips. _A body...with fangs?_

Caroline could feel a searing heat race down her spine. She had a very bad feeling about this "secret discovery."

Who did they find? And why on earth did the people in charge of protecting Mystic Falls suddenly look so terrified?

"Fangs?" Her eyebrows shot up in curiosity. "Like..._vampires?"_

"Down Buffy," Tyler remarked, rolling his eyes. Of course, he thought. Every girl he knew seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with the ultimate vampire slayer.

Matt placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Care, I think it's time we get out of here. If your mom finds us here, we'll be in the shitter."

"Seriously, she's _not_ that frightening," Caroline insisted. "It's all just an act she puts on to convey – I dunno, authority or a strong presence or whatever."

"Whatever," Tyler remarked. "She's still got a gun. That's scary enough for me. Let's jet."

"Yeah, me and Tye kinda have this _no getting shot policy_," Matt threw in with a chuckle.

"Awww, come on guys," she pleaded while batting her mascara-coated eyelashes relentlessly. "This is our first mission together. We can't just run away for fear of getting caught."

"Care, seriously. We can hop in the Mystery Machine some other time," the handsome red-head chucked in teasingly.

"But the body," she insisted, almost on the verge of whining.

"So what? Dude has fangs," Tyler remarked dismissively. "So does Stefan Salvatore. But no goes around callin' him Dracula."

She couldn't help but giggle softly in reply. _But boy oh boy did Stefan know how to rock a leather jacket and dark wash fitted jeans._

Caroline suddenly became distracted midway through her naughty thoughts. Matt Donovan was playfully rubbing her arm with one of those dazzling, makes you weak in the knees just thinking about it smiles. .

It took only mere seconds to become utterly hypnotized by the pearly whites and delicious pink lips that were taunting her hormonally charged body right now. _Mmmm, wonder what it would be like...Elena was such. An. Idiot._

Entranced by the combo of exposed biceps through his t-shirt and close proximity, she leaned back carelessly and felt her shoe collide with a twig, snapping it in half. Turning her head in an instant, Sheriff Forbes stared off in their direction.

They huddled together more closely now and did their best to stay still, silent and virtually invisible. Caroline mentally chided herself for being so clumsy.

They each held their breaths, almost turning blue by the time Officer Rodriguez's super strength flashlight passed by them. The wide tree trunk kept them well concealed; the tall blades of grass helped also.

By the time the lights went out, Caroline Forbes decided to shut her peach gloss-slicked mouth and get a move on with the boys. There was always time for another mission.

Only this time, she would opt for more subdued tones. Perhaps a little black – _or camouflage._

Bonnie lay wide awake in bed. Luminous dark waves strewn around her head like a halo, she stared straight ahead at the ceiling.

The maroon comforter was tugged all the way up to her chin, concealing the thin white camisole and grey shorts she sore beneath.

She had been trying to fall asleep for the past hour, but to no avail. Anticipation, excitement and dread all culminated in the pit of her stomach.

It all made her feel so...nauseated.

Rising from the bed, she began to pace back and forth by the bay window. Stefan and Damon appeared to be immersed in an intense discussion in the backyard.

Wagering a guess, Bonnie figured it had a little something to do with the vamp brother tag team routine they had planned for tonight.

She had never seen Stefan like this before. So vengeful, so...dark.

It was obvious his concern for Elena was consuming him. Anyone who even cast a glance in his direction could tell by his 24/7 defensive demeanor and the distraught poet look in his hazel eyes.

_Ouch._ The discomfort inside of her stomach only seemed to swell.

Bonnie placed a hand on the window sill for support. A sudden sense of dizziness overcame her.

_Must sit down. Need to sit down now, Bennett._ Allowing herself to land on the ledge by the window with a soft thud, she leaned against the green cushions Fiona had placed there especially for decorative purposes.

It had been less than 24 hours since she had willingly surrendered her v-card. In truth, she was still feeling a little sore from Damon's impassioned thrusts.

He wanted her – _all of her._

Waking up beside him was about as surreal as life could get. Two weeks ago, she would have laughed, cried and then vomited at the mere insinuation that she and Damon Salvatore were destined to get it on and combine DNA for the birth of a little Supernatural Michael Jordan.

Now all she could do was pinch herself because it felt so good being in his arms. When he kissed her, it made her toes curl and her body white hot.

His fingers always managed to end up entwined in her dark wavy locks. His other hand seemed to be driven by mischief; it was always the first one to grab her ass.

Then again, she couldn't deny the immeasurable pleasure of being hoisted up by her bottom into the arms of a devastatingly sexy man.

Thanks to her incredibly vivid vision of Elena, there hadn't been much time to lounge around in bed and reminisce about the way he felt inside of her. Then again, they weren't exactly on a bed to begin with.

Bonnie grinned wide, the spitting image of Damon's Cheshire Cat-like expression. She hadn't paid a visit to the scene of the crime all day long.

Quickly pulling off her shorts and replacing them with gray knee-length yoga pants, Bonnie made her way to the door. Yanking it open, she found Fiona standing with her arms folded across her chest.

"Naughty, naughty," she declared, shaking her head from side to side. "Didn't we agree that you would get some rest before we head out tonight?"

"I...uh...tried?" she stammered, shrugging her shoulders.

"Obviously not hard enough," Fiona retorted with a knowing grin. "You can feel the anticipation swelling at the pit of your stomach, can't you?"

"Along with fear...trepidation...oh yeah, and did I mention that part about fear?" the little witch replied with a sigh.

"You must own your fear, my darling."

"Own it?" the emerald-eyed teenager replied quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Look, you can either learn to control your fear-"

"Or?" Bonnie interrupted.

"Or you can allow your fear to control you," the brown-eyed woman finished.

The dark-haired teen gulped aloud at the thought of her own fear somehow dismantling the intricately crafted plan of attack they had assembled together.

No. She wouldn't let that happen.

Fiona quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "Is that your stomach grumbling like an angry old man?"

"Ugh," Bonnie groaned. "It's been killing me all afternoon. I think Mother Nature might be...not really an appropriate topic of conversation, huh?" She stared sheepishly down at her bare feet.

"It's alright," the older witch replied with a laugh.

Placing a hand over her belly, Bonnie took a deep breath. "Could you just give me a minute?"

The Irish woman watched curiously as the little witch made her way rather swiftly to the bathroom.

Sauntering toward the window, she stared out at the open sky.

A black crow was perched atop her red mailbox, poised to spread its wings and fly. Off in the distance, she could barely make out another dark, tiny creature soaring high. It quickly disappeared into the thick brush of trees.

There was so much beauty in the world, she thought, watching the sunset behind the green backdrop.

"That little shit," Maya McCullough breathed harshly.

Her cheeks were stained bright crimson from the physical exersion of combing through the dark forest for hours. Rufus McCullough was her target.

She needed to find him before he could hurt anyone else. Talk of that high school student, Meredith Richards and her "crazy" ramblings about being attacked by a man with wings near Old Fell's Church had spread fast.

If the mortals only knew, she thought with a frustrated sigh. _He has to be around here somewhere._

Clasping a smooth peach colored stone in her palm, the plump fairy scanned every inch of the woods near Old Fell's Church with her crystal blue eyes. She stood beneath the light of the full moon with Tituba Bennett's words playing in her mind like a tape recording.

_You and Rufus may share a bloodline, but he's not the same boy you grew up with. He's an enraged, irrational Supernatural with powers that rival your own._

_'An Solas.'_ That was the name Bonnie's grandmother had used for the stone. It meant 'The Light' and it would guide whoever was in need of its services, to the thing or person they sought.

At first, the stone would flicker a bright hue of peach and then it would turn blood red when the object or individual was close enough to be seen. So far, nothing had happened – not even a flash of illumination.

"Where are you, Rufus McCullough? Come out, come out...wherever you are," she spoke aloud.

Only the persistent hooting of owls and chirping of crickets could be heard.

She was nearing the end of her tether now. "Do you really think Emmeline would have wanted you to carry on this way?" If anything was bound to make him stir, the mention of his murdered wife would certainly do the trick.

"Do you honestly think she'd approve of the killings?" Maya continued. "She was a good woman. Pure of heart. If she were here now...she wouldn't be able to stand the sight of you."

"The sight of who?" a familiar female voice chimed in.

_Great. Law enforcement. Just what I need tonight._ "Sheriff Forbes," Maya began, turning to face the uniformed officer. "Out for a midnight stroll?"

"I suppose you could call it that," the blue-eyed woman replied.

Maya clutched the rock tightly, concealing it beneath her white fingertips. Since the attack on Meredith Richards and her friends, the Mystic Falls Police Department had declared the woods off limits after 12:30am.

The last time a curfew of any kind had been imposed on the town was 145 years ago.

Glancing down at her watch, the fairy mentally chided herself. The past couple of hours had practically flown by in a snap. _12:45am_

"Oh my," she laughed nervously. "Seems I lost track of time. I should probably be going."

As she took one step forward, Maya found herself suddenly blocked by a stern looking Elizabeth Forbes. "Mind telling me what you're doing out here this late at night?"

"Well technically it's the morning," the sapphire-eyed fairy unwittingly offered. _Uh oh. Not a good idea to correct law enforcement – especially when they're armed. Oh what am I saying?! I haven't done anything wrong. I was...just strolling around. That's all the bitch needs to know._

"Well technicalities aside," Lizzie Forbes continued. "I'm still going to need an explanation. Mayor Lockwood was very adamant about keeping residents away from Old Fell's Church. Did you miss the town hall meeting?"

"I suppose I did," she admitted, staring at the ground. _Why on earth is she speaking to me with such an...accusatory tone of voice?_

"Oh yeah? Why is that?" The Sheriff proceeded to slowly circle her like a predatory beast often does to its prey.

"Well I've got a business to run, for starters. I'm the only one bringing home the bacon, so that kind of takes precedence," she smiled.

"Oh yes, Georgiana's. Trinkets for the ones you love," Elizabeth exclaimed, reciting the store's longstanding slogan. "You also seem to possess quite a fondness for exotic plants," she casually threw in.

"Uh...yes." _Where is she going with this?_

"Do you know what happens when you combine a Hibiscus Lobatus with a Chinese Flora and Dried Bluebells?" the short-haired blond inserted, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Potpourri?" Maya answered, suddenly incredibly confused. _Seriously. What. Is. She. Playing. At?_

Sheriff Forbes paused before offering her a knowing smirk. "But what happens you add the blood of an eel and blessed water?"

"_A really foul stench?_" This was getting ridiculous. "Look, I've got an early morning ahead of me and I'd like to get some rest. So why don't you just tell me what you're trying to get at so I can be on my way."

The truth was, you'd get more than just a foul stench with those two ingredients; you'd get one potent batch of revenge. Yes indeed, you could exact revenge upon an enemy by simply slipping it into their tea or coffee.

The key was visualizing the punishment you had in mind for your intended while pouring the thick syrup. Then you had to chant a Welsh incantation.

Of course the water could only be blessed by a seasoned witch. Maya steered clear of the dark brews, as they were known.

Revenge was like a disease. If you let it spread enough, sooner or later, you'll find yourself floundering because of it.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Sheriff Forbes insisted, stopping behind her. "You see, I think you know very well what that little grocery list of ingredients combines to make."

"Are these baseless assumptions supposed to mean anything to me?" the plump fairy inquired.

"Yes actually. They should mean something to you – a woman who flaps her wings when she thinks no one is looking to scour the forest in search of God knows what."

_Shit. Shit. Holy shit._ "I don't know what you're talking about," Maya maintained quite adamantly, folding her arms across her chest.

"No more lies, Ms. McCullough. We've been watching you for quite some time now. We just needed some more evidence to put the nail in the proverbial coffin and guess what? That's exactly what you gave us tonight."

Bolting into that elm tree was probably not the smartest decision in the world, but how else was she supposed to track another fairy? Rufus wasn't partial to keeping his feet on the ground.

Elizabeth came to stand before her and was immediately drawn to a bright light emanating from the palm of the fairy's hand. Her fingers were tightly laced over the object, but still, little bursts of crimson shot out from in between.

"What is that?" the officer asked, taking a step back.

"He's here." Without realizing it, Maya's breathing had stopped. Her ordinarily full pout was now a thin, determined line.

Her eyes darted from tree to tree. She swivelled her hips, looking for any trace of the tall, lithe man with dark hair and eyes just like hers.

Suddenly the petrified scream of Elizabeth Forbes began to batter her eardrums. She turned and found the blond woman face down on the grass, traces of blood splattered on the blades.

Maya lifted her gaze and found a pair of sapphire orbs glaring back at her in the dark.

"Hello, sis. Miss me?"

The blood red moon hung high in the night sky, casting a mystical glow over the town of Kenmare.

Bonnie gazed at the vibrantly hued buildings. It was almost as if someone had summoned the spirit of Joseph and his amazing Technicolor dream coat.

The sidewalks were bare, not a person in sight along the lengthy stretch of road. There, looming high above was the tip of the church steeple, so gothic and mildly unnerving in the dark.

A sudden chill swept through the streets. The little witch felt her teeth begin to chatter slightly and began taking deep, steady breaths to calm down.

For Elena, she reminded herself.

Dressed in white wrap sweater, dark wash skinny jeans, brown riding boots and a charcoal cropped peacoat, Bonnie was style, sophistication and functionality all in one. Her hair had been swept up into a neat half-ponytail, accentuating her high cheekbones and glorious green eyes.

The Salvatore brothers stood to her right. Never to be outdone, they sported their usual combination of black leather and raw sex appeal.

Fiona wore dark grey trousers and a purple cowl neck sweater with a chocolate hued trench coat, belted tightly around her tiny waist. Bonnie had never noticed how much smaller she was than everyone else before, but it became painfully apparent when they were all standing side by side.

Taking a deep breath, she began to lead the others along the ancient wall in search of the sliver of space she had passed through in her dream. Her heart was pitter pattering inside of her chest at an accelerated pace.

What if they never found the chink in the wall? What then?

Her eyes scanned every inch of the stones, so snugly positioned with thick slatherings of mortar in between. Nothing but slate gray in sight.

She turned her head and found Damon following closely behind. Fiona was not far from them with Stefan trailing her protectively.

Every harsh ridge of aged stone could be felt beneath her smooth fingertips...until all she could feel was a cool swish of air.

Turning swiftly, she found herself facing the sliver of space they had been searching for. Relief washed over her, but with it came a sudden sense of fear and trepidation.

Bonnie felt something frigid slide smoothly into her hand. Glancing down, she found Damon lacing his fingers together with hers.

There was such passion in his crystal blue eyes; they bore into her soul and she felt completely naked. "I'm right here," he whispered reassuringly into her left ear.

Squeezing his hand gently, she made her way effortlessly through the small opening. The brothers and Fiona followed suit, landing with a gentle thud on the grass.

Rolling hills the color of sage stretched out as far as the eye could see. To her right was a tightly knit cluster of alders, branches extending up to the heavens.

Stefan Salvatore tossed a black canvas bag on to the ground and began to retrieve a few supplies. Grasping nine cream colored candles, he turned to Bonnie for further directions.

"Over there," she instructed him, pointing at the precise location of the ruins in her dream.

Carefully, he positioned eight of the wide candle sticks in a circle. The ninth one, he placed at the centre, before striking a match and lighting them all.

"Perfect," Fiona remarked. "Now you boys take a step back and let the girls show you how it's really done," she winked.

Bonnie took a deep breath and did all she could to quell the fear and uncertainty brewing in the pit of her stomach. "Let's do this. _For Elena."_

Closing her eyes, she joined hands with Fiona. Gathering every ounce of fortitude inside of her, she began to chant vigorously in unison with the Irish witch.

_"Iarraimid ort, Elora! Iarraimid ort, Elora! Iarraimid ort, Elora! Iarraimid ort, Elora!"_

Their booming voices stopped then. Bonnie and Fiona unlocked their hands from one another and placed their palms together, as if to pray.

Damon swore he could hear a bolt of lightening crackling ferociously somewhere off in the distance.

The witches began the Reverse Phantasm by calling on the wisdom of the East, the spirit of the West, the strength of the North and the heart of the South.

_"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."_

The candles flickered momentarily as a cool breeze swept through the field. Bonnie's luminous raven locks swirled around her face, giving her the appearance of a Goddess – of supremely Supernatural proportions.

Damon marvelled at the sight of her so determined and bewitchingly beautiful. She could melt even the most obstinate heart – he was living..._undead proof_.

_"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."_

Bonnie could feel tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Her chest began to burn with urgency and excitement.

She struggled to maintain her balance as the ground began to rumble beneath them. A lone droplet of water landed on the tip of her nose.

A storm was brewing.

Bolts of lightning spread out across the pitch black sky and moments later there came the first resounding boom. Bucket loads of water began drenching them to the bone.

Bonnie's lips quivered as she continued the call with Fiona.

_"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."_

Their chant came to a sudden halt. The little witch squinted, peering through one eye at a time.

Fiona was gazing at the candles, now fully doused by the pouring water.

"Where is it?" Bonnie shrieked, the realization that nothing had happened, sinking hurtfully in.

"I – I don't know," Fiona stammered, looking equally as baffled.

Before either could continue, Stefan began to shout. "Guys, look!"

White mist began to slither from the ninth candle. It moved around them slowly, brushing against their cheeks with its exceptional heat.

The earth began to tremble again. Bonnie was seconds away from slamming onto the forest floor head first, but Damon's strong arms were around her in an instant.

He held her close and reached out to steady the Irish witch. Stefan raced toward them swiftly and held onto Fiona.

"What's happening?" he shouted, against the powerful gusts of wind now ploughing into them with such force.

The mysterious mist had already traveled back to the candle and now, swelling over top of them was a giant white orb. Bonnie was immediately reminded of the massive explosion of energy at The Stone Circle...and then _in her dream._

"Shield your eyes!" she yelled, placing her arm protectively over her face.

It happened within a mere second. The explosion of light was strong enough to render a person completely blind.

By the time it had come to an end, she moved her arm and found thick plumes of smoke masking everything around her. _Don't panic. Remember how it was in the dream. Don't panic._

"Guys!" she called out. "Are you there?"

The first voice she heard was Damon's. "I'm here. You okay?"

"I am," she replied, feeling relief wash over her at the sound of him so close by. "Stefan? Fiona?"

"I'm alive," the Irish witch shouted.

Stefan's voice rang out next. "Still undead and loving it."

"Awww, you made a little funny, Stefan." Damon chuckled, as the mist began to recede and the other three came into view again.

Their mouths were completely agape. As soon as he followed their line of sight, he knew exactly why.

The ruins stood before them now, arches stretching out beyond the tree tops. Bonnie had described it to a tee.

Stone burial tablets lined one end of the old cathedral, denoting the presence of bodies buried beneath. Remnants of the pews were on either side with intricate carvings etched into the wall of stone where the priest would have stood, reading his sermons. Although, Damon had serious doubts has to whether or not a priest would have consented to setting foot inside of this place at all.

There was something far too sinister at play here to house any positive sentiments.

He observed the terrified expression on Bonnie's face, marring her delicate features for a brief moment. He slipped his hand into hers and began to walk in the direction of the doorway. Half of it was missing and the rest had been severely cracked by age.

Fiona and Stefan were right on their heels. They were instructed to look for any symbols or mysterious markings that might suggest a possible passage way to the lair of The Three.

Damon scanned the pews, while Stefan tended to the aisles. Fiona circled the ancient structure for any possible clues.

Bonnie stood by the altar, observing the discoloured shards of stained glass that remained attached to the window frame overhead. There were statues on either side of her, the bodies of cherubs with the faces of little devils, snarling as if enraged by their very presence.

They sent a chill sliding most uncomfortably down her spine.

Suddenly she was jarred by the sound of Stefan Salvatore, yelling in frustration. "Fuck!" He was pounding his balled up fists repeatedly against the stone wall, about to lose his mind over Elena.

Tilting his head skyward, he sniffled. It sounded to Bonnie like the vampire was doing his best to contain a fit of tears, threatening to cascade down his cheeks at any moment.

"We need to find her, Bonnie." He looked so broken.

He was mad as hell. All he wanted was Elena and now somehow, the fates had conspired against him. He was the good brother. He was the dutiful son.

Elena was goodness too. She was kind, loving and so tender with him. And yet she was trapped in some dank, depressing place, being held captive by three men who were bent on hate and brutality. This wasn't fair.

Slamming his fist back into the wall, he cried out in anguish. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"This is _not_ the time to lose your cool," Damon declared in a gruff tone. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and pushed him against the wall.

Stefan shoved him with all of his might and sent him flying across the cathedral. The blue-eyed vampire rose swiftly, dusting off his Italian leather jacket and growling. "You think this is helping Elena?"

"I need to find her," Stefan replied through gritted teeth.

"We will find her, Stefan." Bonnie's voice came out as a muffled sob. "I'm so sorry they took her. It should have been me."

"No," Damon breathed. "Stop it. This is madness."

"No, it isn't," she sighed. "It's the truth."

All he wanted to do right now was gather her in his arms and kiss her passionately until her body felt enflamed and all the negativity in the world became a distant memory that couldn't terrorize her anymore.

He was about to leap to her side when suddenly the ground gave way.

Bonnie and Stefan ran to the spot where he had been standing mere moments before and called out to him. "Damon! Hold on, Damon!"

It was a pitch black portal that had suddenly stirred to life. Something had provoked it, but what?

The teenage witch gathered all the courage she could muster. She had to save him!

"No, Bonnie!" Stefan yelped, holding her in place firmly. "You can't go after him just like that. You could be walking into a trap. Let me do it."

"But Stefan-"

"No buts," he ordered. "That son-of-a-bitch is my brother. If anyone should go after him, it's me."

"But I-" _You what, Bonnie? You like him? What?_

Stefan smiled and leaned in, whispering into her ear. "It's alright. _I know."_

With those final words, the younger Salvatore disappeared into the sea of black with Bonnie watching after him fearfully.

She turned to find Fiona stumbling in just then. "Bonnie! Where are the-"

Her breath hitched just as she arrived by the little witch's side. "So this is where they've been hiding."

"Damon fell through and I tried to go after him, but Stefan went after him instead. He told me to stay here," she rambled frantically. "But I can't. I just can't. I need to know they're alright, Fiona. Please. Help me help them."

"You know I will," the witch eyed her seriously. Fiona leaned against the wall, preparing to charge at the portal. Then, in a split second, it vanished.

"No! Wait! What happened?" Bonnie shouted. "Where did it go?"

She got down on her hands and knees and began bashing the ground with her fists, nearly drawing blood. "Damon! Stefan!"

The older woman leaned forward, yanking her off the floor. "No Bonnie," she said, tilting her chin up. "We'll find a way to open it up again. We can't be hysterical right now."

Fiona held her close, stroking her back reassuringly. Bonnie leaned her chin on her shoulder and stared at the spot where she had been standing just a moment before. Damon was standing precisely...

_"There,"_ the green-eyed witch exclaimed, suddenly experiencing perhaps the greatest epiphany she had ever had in her life.

"_There? _What are you talking about," the copper skin woman asked, releasing the young girl from her embrace.

Bonnie approached the wall and found a piece of stone jutting out from beneath the window frame. It was attached to an image that had been carved into the wall, except one part of it had fallen off.

Observing the shape clearly, she realized the protruding piece was the stem of a four leaf clover, now reduced to two and a half leaves thanks to the less than stellar preservation of the ruins.

She applied pressure on the stem, but it wouldn't budge. Then another thought occurred to her.

Stepping slightly to her left, she lifted the stem and instantly, the portal reappeared. "Oh my God," she gasped. "They were fighting. Stefan threw Damon and Damon landed against this. That's how he fell through."

"So it seems their married couple bickering_ is _good for something, after all." Fiona smirked slightly.

"Guess so," Bonnie chimed in. "I just hope it doesn't get them killed."

The two women knew what they had to do. Fiona gestured for the little witch to move back.

"Me first. Then you," she declared. "We need to keep _you_ safe."

"Ugh, fine," she groaned impatiently.

Fiona leapt from the ground into the portal. It resembled a swirling vortex of black pen ink, only a greater viscosity.

When her petite form had finally disappeared from sight, Bonnie inhaled deeply...and jumped. She fell forever in a sea of nothingness.

She was alone and getting dizzier by the second, being dragged along by the suction of the gateway to lord knows where. Holding her head in her hands, she somehow managed to get her body into a fetal position.

Soon after, she landed with a resounding thud against the sand. Bonnie yelped softly and placed a hand on her temple. _No blood. Thank god._

Physically, everything appeared to be in place. Her arms were still in their sockets, so were her legs and her neck was still remarkably intact.

Portals were such strange methods of transportation. It made her wonder what the one at The Stone Circle would be like, should they ever get the chance to use it.

Bonnie surveyed her surroundings. The walls were made of hard, damp rocks, covered in moss and there before her were three tunnels.

No sign of Damon, Stefan or Fiona. She was alone again.

There were torches placed along the wall, offering her at least some light to gauge the hole in the ground her boyfriend...er..._Damon_ had stumbled into quite literally just minutes ago. They had to be somewhere.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Three possibilities. Three assholes who want me dead. Three friends missing. Coincidence much?

_I guess settling this little dilemma with eeny meeny miny mo probably isn't such a good idea._

Bonnie took a deep breath and opted for the one on the left.

She allowed her fingertips to brush against the ancient moss-covered stone and felt droplets of water trickling down periodically from overhead. She had memorized their plan of attack to a tee.

Fiona had taught her a great deal about transfiguration in the brief time they had spent together. She told her that many witches were capable of taking on the appearance of objects or other persons, but often, it took them a great deal of effort and energy.

Bonnie, on the other hand, could sop up all the details of a person's physical features with just one glance and reproduce it on herself within seconds. Another fascinating fact about The Chosen Witch.

She could still remember sitting on Grams's lap as a child while they read books about witches, wizards and fairies. Back then, of course, she was under the very inaccurate impression that they were all kind, rosy-cheeked and friendly to kids.

So much for that little misconception. Then again, Auntie My was literally a good fairy. She was a good witch and so were Grams and Fiona. Now wizards..._Harry Potter, maybe?_

Her feet began to ache. _So much for choosing the right tunnel._

Bonnie wondered how the others were doing. Did anyone else happen to choose door number one – or was she the only idiot who decided to accept the first offer instead of shopping around?

Unfastening the pins that held her hair in place, she ran her fingers through the thick, wavy mass. Boy had the rain done a number on it.

She glanced down at the sand and gravel beneath her boots. So far, everything about this place reeked of dinginess.

Then again, what else could you expect from Team Evil? Obviously not good taste.

She kept moving, her heart beating faster than it had been inside the cathedral. Still no sign of the others. This was far more than just a little concerning.

Picking up the pace, Bonnie did her best to ignore the searing pain at the ball of her right foot. She needed to get inside that lair. Elena's life depended on it.

As she charged forward, a set of cold hands locked her in place. One hand was clamped down over her mouth, while the other gripped her waist.

Bonnie bit down on their fingertips and tried to wriggle her way out of their grasp, but it was all for naught. They were unrelenting.

"Shhh," a familiar masculine voice soothed. His cool breath caused goosebumps to spring up along the side of her neck. "It's me. It's Stefan."

He slowly removed his hand from her lips and chuckled lightly as she threw her arms around him in a warm embrace. "Stefan. I'm so happy you're alright. Where's Damon? And Fiona – I haven't seen her either."

"I don't know," he sighed, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "But if there's one thing I know about my brother, he knows how to survive. I'm sure we'll find them soon, Bonnie."

"I really hope so, Stefan. I can't lose him. I won't."

"No. You won't," he reassured her. He paused for a moment, looking more serious now. "I think we need to come up with plan b."

Elena Gilbert could feel Death, cradling her in his arms until she closed her eyes and fell asleep for good.

Her vision had become severely blurred and unfocused. The emptiness in her stomach had conjured up the most intense pain she had ever felt.

The metal restraints around her wrists had already drawn blood. She had reached the point where the world and all of its infinite possibilities ceased to exist. She would never be able to see daylight ever again, she supposed mournfully.

In her heart, she knew Stefan would never abandon her. He would turn the world inside out to find her, but when he did, would it be too late?

Sometimes she dreamed about him. He held her close and they danced – her in a floor-length white satin gown and him in a tuxedo, her dashing savior.

She kept her eyes shut most of the time now. Each time she opened them, it was like waking up to a nightmare over and over again.

No light, only darkness. A single tear trickled down her pale cheek as she pondered another night here in this place.

She could hear The Three, speaking in a language she couldn't understand. Like always, they huddled around their precious fountain.

When they weren't vigorously searching for Bonnie, they were communicating with other members of the clan through the waters. They had already been in contact with the warlock, Rudyard Duke.

He was their Chosen One. From what she could surmise by their booming laughter, they were getting much closer to Bonnie.

Elena could still recall Rudyard's devious face and those beady little eyes that shot darts of hate right through her. His nose was long with a decidedly pointy tip and his smile was even worse than his scowl.

Since her arrival, The Three taunted her daily. At least for a moment or two, she would have some peace.

She could hear them again, carrying on like children in their foreign language. They laughed maniacally and pounded their fists against the ledge of the fountain.

She could hear everything, including the distinctive squeaking of a bat. Sometimes they ventured down this way, small, mysterious creatures that they were.

Often, Lord Everett, the eldest of The Three, would twist their heads off and toss them into the waters to conjure up some unsavoury spell. These men were merciless – even to other creatures of the night.

The truth was, Everett frightened her the most. His dark eyes were like charcoal, likely the color of his heart. He was ruthless and he had been the one who forced her to drink from the fountain.

The word "Duine" was still etched into her forehead, but now the wound had begun to heal somewhat. It had begun to clot, leaving each letter covered with dark, rough patches of dried up blood.

His skin was snow white and his lips were thin with wrinkles all around. He had not aged well on the outside, but what he lacked there, he made up for in strength and deviousness.

Lord Atwater towered above the rest at 6'5" with graying chestnut hair and powder blue eyes. He would have been a handsome man, had it not been for the extreme ugliness in his heart. He was second in command.

Then there was Lord Davies and his devious green gaze. He bore an alabaster complexion with crow's feet extending from his eyes over his cheeks. Such a foul temper on that one.

Elena allowed her head to hang, unable to fight the drowsiness that weighed her down. She wanted so much to be in Stefan's arms right now – somewhere far, far away from this place.

"My Lords." The familiar masculine voice caused her to shudder violently.

"Do you have The Witch?" Lord Everett questioned.

As she raised her head, the brunette felt an awful sense of dread overwhelm her. It was him – the sinister stranger who had ripped her body from Stefan's grasp the night of the dance.

His devious violet eyes bore into her for a moment and all she could think to do was run, but shackled in place against the walls kept her well within his view. He observed her closely – probably drinking in the sight of her so completely stripped of hope and light, she thought.

"'Tis a monumental day for our kind," Rudyard Duke declared, leaving the cave momentarily. When he returned, Elena's heart sank to the pit of her stomach. "I give you The Chosen Witch."

He dragged her into the lair by her long, dark locks. Bonnie yelped in pain, as he punched her in the stomach.

Her hands were bound by rope and tears streamed freely down her cheeks. "Elena!" she shrieked.

The two girls locked eyes, wanting so desperately to run into each other's arms and never let go. "Bon-Bonnie," she cried out weakly. Her voice was cracking so often now and she was severely dehydrated.

"Isn't this lovely?" Lord Davies scoffed. "One witch and one bitch. Which one gets to die first?"

"I say we kill 'em together," Rudyard threw in cruelly. "I'd like to relish the sounds of their screams simultaneously."

"Excellent idea," Lord Everett concluded.

"What say you to a good beheading?" the sinister stranger queried with a disgusting glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

The Three pondered his request for a moment, licking their lips in anticipation of the historic moment about to unfold in their homestead. They snickered at the thought of inflicting such agony on the young women.

Blood curdling screams, fresh blood, a Prophecy dismantled – what more could they ask for?

"Alright, Rudyard. I suppose since you were successful – after much difficulty, mind you – excruciating death by beheading sounds very good, indeed."

"Bring The Witch. I'll get the girl," Lord Davies instructed him, his blue eyes fixated on Elena.

"This is the end, young one," he sneered. He unlocked the restraints holding her captive and immediately, her body fell forward.

Her legs were so numb; it was almost as if she no longer just instinctively knew how to walk. Her body collided with the ground so harshly, she felt as though her bones would break.

Carelessly, the warlock flung her over his shoulder and chuckled at her expense. "I take great pleasure in watching you crumble to pieces. Your death will be most pleasing."

He placed her on the ground beside Bonnie, the witch's hands still bound. Elena tried to sit up to embrace her best friend, but her body simply felt too weak. Every small movement hurt so much.

Bonnie reached out and grasped her hand. "How touching," Lord Atwater scoffed.

"I suppose it's only fitting they die together," Lord Everett chuckled maniacally. With that, he fetched a sword from the racks that hung along the stone wall.

Bonnie gulped aloud at the sight of the glistening steel. "May I do away with the frail one?" Lord Davies chimed in eagerly.

"I'll do away with The Witch," Lord Everett reminded him.

Davies positioned himself to strike fast and hard and as he began to move forward, that mysterious little bat flew into his robes. Rolling his eyes, the warlock prepared to zap the creature into oblivion.

Elena struggled to see what all the commotion was about, but when the blurriness began to subside, all she could see...was a dagger _ripping through Davies's body _from his navel to his throat. The next thing she knew, Stefan Salvatore emerged from inside the robe, his face splattered with the warlock's blood.

The brown-eyed vampire licked the blade clean before slashing the man's throat violently. Then in an instant, he was by her side with his arms wrapped protectively around her body.

Lord Davies's mutilated corpse fell to the ground, landing with a loud thud. He was dead – by the blade of his own dagger.

Lord Everett snarled at the sight of the vampire and readied himself to unleash hell on the creature who dared to interrupt his little slice of heaven. He looked down to where The Witch was waiting and decided to get rid of her first. Above all, The Prophecy had to be stopped.

He was about to swing his sword when a bolt of electricity stung him in the back. He collided with the wall of the fountain, leaving him with an open gash on the forehead.

Turning his head swiftly, he glanced irately in Rudyard Duke's direction. _A traitor in our midst?_

But what he found shocked him even more. _Rudyard Duke was not Rudyard Duke_; it was The Chosen Witch_ in disguise_.

By the time his gaze shifted back to the girl he was about to decapitate – the one he thought was Bonnie Bennett – he found an older woman with copper skin, freeing herself from the rope that bound her wrists. She did it with grace; she did it with magic. It was Fiona.

Stefan lifted Elena's fragile body into his arms and tried to get her away from The Three. Anticipating the vampire's next move, Lord Atwater closed his eyes and began to summon the most incredible headache the younger Salvatore had ever experienced.

Unbeknown to the warlock, Fiona Reid was already on her feet standing behind him. She was well schooled on how to provoke an aneurism with steady concentration.

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, she sent the most intense, searing pain she could conjure into his brain, attacking every last nerve she could find. The sound of his guttural cries pierced Elena's eardrums as she held on tighter to Stefan.

Somehow he had managed to keep her locked in his embrace, despite the head-splitting agony he had just endured. Swivelling his neck, he watched in horror as Lord Everett charged at Bonnie with his silver dagger drawn.

"No!" he yelled. "Bonnie, watch out!"

Eyes wide, mouth agape, Bonnie turned to find Damon and Lord Everett colliding combatively in midair. They landed hard on the sand and gravel, both groaning at the initial impact.

The sapphire-eyed vampire climbed on top of the warlock and proceeded to deal blow after enraged blow. _"No one_,' he grunted. "Touches her. _No one_," he breathed. "_But me_."

Leaning in close, Damon unleashed his canines viciously on the man's throat. Lord Everett's body convulsed beneath the unrestrained beast, as he feasted on his aging flesh.

Miraculously, Damon's body was flung across the cave. Everett had managed to focus enough of his energy on freeing himself and now stood, braced to attack the little witch at any moment.

It was then that Fiona leapt protectively in front of her and shouted a command Bonnie had never heard before. _"Beir!"_

Within seconds be was encased by a transparent dome. Bonnie's eyes were wide with confusion and gratitude.

She watched Damon as he lifted himself off the ground and immediately ran to his side. "You need to leave," he declared. "We can take it from here."

"No," she replied adamantly. "I'm not leaving you."

"You need to stay alive," he insisted, gripping her arms.

"I'm not going anywhere!" she shouted in her loudest tone.

"The Prophecy is nothing without you!" he reminded her.

"We're in this together," she passionately replied.

He reached out with such quickness that it caught her off-guard. Bonnie gasped, as she was suddenly hauled against him. "Don't you understand? _You are everything_."

His lips came down hard, plundering hers until she moaned in sheer bliss. It felt like more of a declaration than a mere kiss.

Reluctantly, the vampire pulled away. Though he was devoid of a pulse and his skin was alabaster in color, his cheeks had somehow become stained a vibrant cherry hue.

Bonnie gazed intently into his ocean blue orbs. Gone was the boyish indignation she had come to expect from him; in its place was genuine adoration and something that resembled the feeling she could have sworn had begun to grow inside her heart.

"Damon!" They turned simultaneously at the sound of Stefan's strained yelp.

Lord Atwater was no longer grasping his head in his hands. He was now charging full steam ahead at Damon with nothing but pure abhorrence in his crystal blue eyes.

"Now you die," he raged on.

Shoving Bonnie protectively out of harm's way, Damon prepared himself for a duel to the death. He growled fiercely, baring his canines for the warlock. His gaze became shadowy and obsidian in hue, as he beckoned the Supernatural forward with his index finger.

He raced forward and braced himself to make contact with the warlock midair when Stefan swooped into the battle instead. Damon had never seen his brother this vengeful and blood thirsty in all their years together.

He tore into Atwater's throat with monstrous savageness and spat out delicate pieces of flesh. His mouth was filled with blood, dripping red syrup all over the floor of the cave.

His actions may have rendered the man weaker, but nothing could kill a Lord of The Fior but their own dagger. Stefan tried to sneak his hand inside Atwater's gray robe, but the warlock anticipated his next move and sent a bolt of lightning surging through his body, causing him to shudder violently in response.

That gave Damon enough time to transform. He spread his wings and flew as close to the ground as he could. When he reached his feet, the crow flew inside of the warlock's robe and searched for the shiny blade.

Noticing a glimmer of sliver to his right amidst the darkness, he shifted back into his human form and grabbed the object, thrusting it barbarously into the man's chest repeatedly. Blood spewed forth, splattering all over his beautiful face.

Damon licked the cherry colored fluid from his fingertips and leapt out from beneath the garment. He watched as the pale-skinned man collapsed onto the floor in a pool of his own blood.

Lord Everett was still encased in the dome. Stefan and Damon were more than prepared to destroy him as well and end this nightmare, but they were stopped in their tracks.

"No," Fiona commanded them. "This has to end. Even if you slay him, this place will remain. There are dark powers within this portal – in such quantities the mortal world should never know. Lord Everett will die tonight – by _my_ hands. _For my mother_."

"There's something else you're not telling us," Stefan exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "What are you keeping from us, Fiona?"

"This place must be_ permanently _sealed. In order to do that, a sacrifice_ must _be made. Only the blood of a royal can accomplish that," she explained, her voice trailing off near the end.

"The Bellwains weren't just Guardians of the Prophecy, were they?" Bonnie questioned her.

"They were the Kings and Queens of The Witching World for many years before Tabitha's time. As the last living descendent, the onus falls on me." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "The truth is, we Bellwains have been searching for this place for ages now. Thanks to you, Bonnie, we can finally see to the destruction of it."

"But there has to be another way," Stefan stated adamantly. His eyes were beginning to well up with tears, as he held onto Elena.

"Oh Stefan," she sighed, placing a hand on his cheek. "You'll never truly understand how much I have grown to adore you. If there were any other way, I wouldn't hesitate to leave with you lot."

"So that's it? You're just gonna stay here?" he asked, his voice on the verge of cracking.

Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered into his ear a vision that had come to her in a dream and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Your mother would have been very proud of the man you've become."

She stared up at Damon thoughtfully. "You know, I didn't like you much when we first met."

Try as he might to maintain his cool, on the inside, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. "Yeah, that was pretty evident. I've gotta say, you aren't a very good actress."

"Who says I was tryin' to hide it?" she replied saucily.

"Touche."

"You're a good man, Damon Salvatore – whether you realize it or not." For a moment, she grappled with the idea of hugging him. He would undoubtedly squirm in her embrace, but what the heck did she have to lose now?

Throwing her arms around him, Fiona felt him awkwardly patting her back. He watched her with a rather peculiar expression on his face. She couldn't help but chuckle in amusement at his inability to accept affection from others.

By the time she stood before Bonnie, the young woman was already a complete mess. Her cheeks were damp with fresh tears that had begun to stream uncontrollably. "So this is it," she remarked.

"Aye." Fiona brushed aside a lock of dark hair from her temple. "It has been an honor, my dear. My Queen. The courage you displayed tonight was nothing short of extraordinary."

Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on Bonnie's forehead. "Do me one last favor, will you lass?"

"Anything."

"When this place crumbles, you must head to The Stone Circle as quickly as you can. You must leave Ireland and return to your loved ones back in Mystic Falls. A storm is brewing. I can feel it."

After one final embrace, Bonnie stepped back and watched as the transparent encasement disappeared. It had drained Lord Everett considerably, allowing Fiona to pummel him further with her witchcraft.

She plunged the dagger into his chest and instructed them to leave. After seeing the devastation on their youthful faces just moments prior, she couldn't very well allow them to see her make the ultimate sacrifice.

That night, beneath the town of Kenmare, Fiona Bridget Reid stabbed herself in the heart.

_R.I.P. The last remaining Bellwain._


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey Bamon fans! Sorry for the long wait! Here's the latest chapter of "Something Supernatural." Six more chappies to go before this fic is done!_

_Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read SS or commented or even skimmed through it. I always love reading what you guys have to say! _

_So this week I decided to pay homage to some of the great Bamon mvid makers out there. How? Well I've basically chosen each of the songs I loved the most that just happened to be used for Bamon mvids. This week I've got four and next week, I'll have another four. Enjoy and let me know what you think! _

_"Say When" by The Fray - Mvid by darkchick843_

_"All That I'm Asking For" by Lifehouse - Mvid by Sikam16_

_"Flower For A Ghost" by Thriving Ivory (Not used for a Bamon vid, but really relevant to a certain long haired brunette in this story)_

_"Bloodstream" by Stateless - Mvid by quin611_

**Chapter 14: Love Always**

_Royal blood shall stain the ground_

_And cleanse this space._

_Then shall come the sound_

_And all will crumble in this decrepit place._

They scrambled for the exit as the earth trembled violently beneath their feet. If they didn't find a way out soon, they would surely end up buried beneath the rubble – right along with the remains of The Three.

Damon leaped forward and scooped Bonnie into his sturdy arms, refusing to lose any ground by running at mere mortal speed. Swerving around each bend in the dimly lit tunnel, he dodged sand and moss-covered stones as they plummeted around them onto the sand and gravel.

Stefan was right on his heels, clutching Elena's fragile body snugly against his taut chest. She felt so light in his embrace, her emerald green dress barely hugging the contours of her starved body.

They had to monopolize whatever small amount of time Fiona had bought them and flee Ireland as quickly as they could. Just because The Three were dead didn't mean their henchmen would back down.

Every man and woman who believed so vehemently in their ways was sure to come after them. The destruction of the lair would seal the cave indefinitely, ridding it of the darkness that had been living there for so long.

Hate and intolerance, however, were cyclical; it was only a matter of time before three others were appointed to lead the clan. By sacrificing herself, Fiona had vaporized the intuitive waters, preventing future clansmen from seeking its much coveted council.

There would be no hidden cave, no ruins and no stone thrones to sit upon. The destruction of the lair was a declaration from the Bellwains to the rest of the Supernatural world that "Yes indeed, good can and will absolutely triumph over evil."

This would be the first of many battles to come – that much Bonnie could feel intuitively. If there were warlocks so bent on her destruction, who else was lurking around the corner, waiting to end her life and halt The Bellwain Prophecy?

She could feel herself growing dizzier by the second, as her body wavered back and forth in Damon's arms. He moved so swiftly she could swear the whole world was spinning repeatedly on its axis and at some point or another; she would go flying into outer space.

Then she felt her body slam harshly against his chest as he came to an abrupt stop. They were back in the same room they had all fallen into after free-falling through the jet black portal.

Bonnie's spidey senses were tingling like crazy. Since they had not led them astray yet, Damon clung to her every instruction when it came to navigating the series of interconnecting underground pathways.

They could have gone racing through the first tunnel; logic would have dictated as much. Then again, this was the Supernatural world they were talking about.

Logic didn't reign supreme in a world where fairies flew across the night sky or where werewolves cried out ferociously against the dramatic imagery of a full moon set in stark contrast against pitch black.

No. There was little, if any room at all for "common sense" or what silly mortals deemed "absolute impossibilities."

Impossible, on the other hand, could be applied to co-existing with humans. Damon snorted at the thought, remembering the way he and his brother had been brutally shot and killed by the townspeople the night of their murderous rampage.

He swerved expeditiously around every bend in the tunnel, repositioning his arms slightly so that Bonnie was now practically glued to his body. "Keep going!" she shouted, feeling an onslaught of visions hijacking every cell in her brain.

This was the way – without a doubt.

She could feel a sudden sense of torridness accumulating inside of her chest again. It was like her body was gradually becoming engulfed by flames and there was nothing she could do to extinguish them.

Damon caught a burst of bright red light against Bonnie's chest. The Bellwain amulet was astir again, hopefully not channelling spirits this time.

Stefan quickened his pace until he was side by side with his brother. He glanced down at the flickering object and flashed him an inquisitive glare. _What's it doing?_

In truth, Damon didn't need Bonnie's verbal prompting about which turn to take or how far to swerve to the left. He could see every route meticulously mapped out in her mind.

At times it felt like his peripheral sight was fading in and out, leaving him with a deeply unpleasant case of tunnel vision. The torches placed periodically along the walls had become blurs of gold and bronze.

He shook his head from time to time to regain focus. At least it was as easy as that for him; for Bonnie, there was nothing else she could do but endure the dizzying array of visions until the spell she was under wore off.

It was like Fiona had said. Bonnie was a magnet for Supernatural activity – no matter how unpleasant.

Damon eyed his brother and grunted in frustration. _Somebody's beaming directions into Bonnie's brain right now._

Staring at him quizzically, Stefan arched a brow. _Who? Tabitha?_

_Haven't got a clue._ He shrugged lightly, accelerating his speed and urging his younger brother to do the same.

They charged forward with such ferocity in both their strides. Clenching his jaw, Stefan gazed down at Elena, still struggling to keep her drooping eyelids even slightly ajar.

He unleashed a low, animalistic growl that echoed throughout the tunnel. Bonnie shuddered in response, tightening her hold around Damon's neck.

The blue-eyed vampire observed his brother wearily. _Calm. The fuck. Down._

The sight of Elena's flawless skin now marred by the carving of the word "Duine" into her forehead had been the final straw. It fostered in Stefan, the greatest rage he had ever known.

He wanted to rip someone to shreds. Go on a murderous rampage throughout Fior Territory, perhaps. Anything to ensure that anyone who was even remotely associated with The Three got what they deserved – no mercy and total savagery.

Tapping into the disturbing array of thoughts scattered throughout the mind of Stefan Salvatore, Damon wondered silently, would his dear baby brother – he who is goodness and kindness personified – ever be able to wean himself off of the human stuff?

That deeply satisfying, delectable, strawberry-syrup-like elixir that taunts the taste buds and conjures saliva... Damon swiped his canines with his tongue at the mere thought.

He and Stefan bolted around the next bend. It had been years since he had seen his little brother transform into a bat.

The last time they had flown anywhere together in their transformed state was 1963. Hoards of screaming girls – and fainting ones in comparable numbers – all lined up in Manchester to see John, Paul, Ringo and George take to the stage.

Of course, Stefan had intended on going alone. Damon, ever the persistent bastard, wouldn't take no for an answer; it was, after all, his mission in the afterlife to cause his baby brother inordinate amounts of grief and torment.

The rocks continued to descend upon them like a furious storm of hale. It slammed into them with tremendous force.

Stefan and Damon had their bodies leaned forward to take the brunt of the hammering, shielding Bonnie and Elena as best they could. It was like the end of the world was upon them and all they could do was run as fast as their feet afforded them.

"Damon!" Bonnie yelped, tugging on the collar of his leather jacket. "Wait!"

"For what? For us to get buried inside this place?" he balked.

Yanking him closer, she stared intently into his blue eyes. "Do you trust me?"

If you had asked him that question weeks ago, the answer would have been a resounding "Hell no!" Now all he could see in those emerald orbs were strength and fierce conviction.

"I do," he breathed against her lips.

Stefan steadied himself against the wall of the tunnel, cradling Elena in his arms. He caressed her cheek tenderly in the palm of his hand and silently swore to himself that nothing bad would ever happen to her again.

He then eyed his brother curiously as Bonnie's body began to convulse violently. She craned her neck forward, shut her eyes and clutched the crimson gem solidly.

Her movements were disturbingly mechanical – an indication to them that the little witch was now being possessed by someone...or something.

Damon placed his palm on her cheek and tried to stir her from her state of entrancement. "Come on, Bonnie. Stay with me. I'm right here. Stay with me," he urged in a voice so desperate and uncharacteristic, Stefan swore he could finally imagine his brother as the prophesied vampire.

Then in one swift motion, her head flung backward and her eyelids parted just a touch to reveal two slivers of pure white. "Bonnie?" Damon whispered, tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear.

"Díolúine ó dhliteanas sibhialta an bac go bhfuil seilbh linn laistigh de na ballaí. Deontas slánú chugainn roimh an fómhar." The words fell from her lips in a controlled, unflinching manner.

No mispronunciations, no fumbling between difficult words. It was the voice of a studied, masterful Witch Goddess – and her voice bore a beautiful and distinct lilt that told you she was of Irish blood.

But who was it? Tabitha? Fiona? Or someone higher up the mystical totem pole?

Before he could consider any other options, Damon watched in astonishment as the wall across from Stefan began to crack. They continued to shield the girls from the falling debris, but it was becoming more difficult to withstand the onslaught of pain bearing down on them so quickly.

The amulet was still aglow, growing more fiery with each passing second. Damon could tell the crumbling stone would send even more dust and sand flying into their eyes and shouted for his brother to shield himself.

With their arms braced protectively over themselves, they turned their backs to the wall and heard a thunderous boom. Swinging their bodies around full circle, they found themselves face to face with an opening.

It led to what seemed like another tunnel, but as they ran farther, the width of it became much larger. They were no longer being battered by falling stones.

Damon glanced down at Bonnie again. The gem was dimming – a sign that whatever presence had inhabited her body mere moments before, was now leaving.

She gasped aloud and tightened her arms around his neck. "What just happened?"

"Another possession, baby." He kissed her forehead and kept moving as fast as he could.

A minute later, they arrived at the mouth of a cave. The pitch black sky was generously sprinkled with stardust, casting an enchanting glow over the open field they had stumbled upon.

"We need to get to The Stone Circle, Damon." Bonnie stared up at him with urgency in her eyes. He relished the sight of her glorious green irises. "We can use the portal to get home, but we need to get there fast."

She was right. At any moment, the henchmen of The Fior would take to the countryside in search of The Chosen Witch and her comrades. They couldn't take that chance.

Stefan and Damon exchanged knowing glances. "Do you trust me?" the blue-eyed vampire whispered into Bonnie's right ear.

"I do." That was all he needed to hear from her.

"Close your eyes," he told her softly.

"Why?"

"You said you trusted me," he reminded her swiftly.

"I do trust you, but-"

"No buts," he interjected. "Close 'em."

Reluctantly, she did as she was told. It became very quiet around them, save for the crickets chirping nearby.

Bonnie focused on the silence, inhaled the clean air and screamed her lungs off when she opened her eyes again and found herself ascending into the sky at torpedo-like speed.

Her hair whipped around her face as she stared up at Damon, eyes wide with utter fright. "I told you not to open 'em," he smirked smugly.

"Are we – are we flying?" she stammered, shutting her eyelids again as tightly as she could.

"I'm a man of many talents," he grinned, as she dug her nails into his shoulder blades.

If Bonnie hadn't been so terrified of heights, she would have open her eyes and then rolled them in reply. Instead, she simply sighed and pressed her body firmly against his.

Elena was no longer trapped in that hellish cavern; that alone was reason enough to rejoice on the inside. Now they just had to make it back to Mystic Falls.

Damon navigated the skies with relative ease. He did, after all, spend a great deal of time disguised as a crow.

Stefan followed closely behind. "Do you recognize this place?"

"Green rolling hills as far as the eye can see? Hmmm, if I had to guess...I'd say we're still in Ireland...Batman."

"And here, I was beginning to wonder...sociopath," Stefan replied, rolling his brown eyes in irritation.

"Ouch," Damon winced in pretend pain.

The brothers scanned every inch of the countryside, until moments later; a vaguely familiar sight peaked out from within a cluster of trees. Everything was miniature in size from where they flew; it was like staring down at bunches of broccoli with little Monopoly houses scattered throughout.

Damon studied the white aluminum siding on the structure carefully. Then it hit him.

It was the tourism information center he and Bonnie had seen – right before they ended up at The Stone Circle. He shifted his gaze further right and focused on a patch of land that, to mere mortal eyes, would have looked barren in the dark.

"There it is!" he shouted, positioning himself to make a swift landing.

Bonnie peered up at him with a relieved expression on her adorable face. "Almost there," he assured her with a smirk. "Ready to work your mojo?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she gulped, trying not to sound half as nervous as she felt.

Then again, how could she not be? She had never actually used a portal before – as herself anyway.

The last time she and Damon had traveled to The Stone Circle, Tabitha Bellwain had been in completely control of her body and vocal chords. It was she who unlocked the portal.

At least now, Bonnie knew why. The pieces fit together like an intricately designed puzzle.

As they drew closer to the field, she could feel Damon's body tighten protectively around her. His eyebrows were furrowed and his forehead was creased with sudden perplexity.

She soon noticed that both of the Salvatore siblings were wearing the same expression. "What's wrong?" she queried, as Damon set her down gingerly on her feet.

They now stood beside the central boulder in the circular formation of stones. The brothers exchanged weary glances. "Nothing," the blue-eyed vampire replied adamantly.

"Then let's do this," Bonnie responded, placing her right hand over the red crystal. "Hold onto me, boys."

The truth was, they had both felt the presence of mortals nearby as soon as they had begun to descend on the field. Whether they were Fior clansmen or a set of unsuspecting humans dillydallying through the countryside, they couldn't be certain.

Regardless of that, they needed to flee Ireland quickly. There was no point in making the green-eyed witch any more nervous than she already was before attempting such a powerful spell.

Stefan had Elena positioned between him and Bonnie so their bodies were touching. He pressed his palm against her shoulder, while Damon had one arm snaked possessively around her waist.

As awkward as their position appeared, they needed to maintain contact at all times throughout the incantation to be able to travel together simultaneously. Fiona had relayed as much when she discussed the ins and outs of portal use with the little witch.

It was difficult enough to maintain her composure knowing the monumental sacrifice the Irish woman had just made. In that fleeting moment, Bonnie had lost her mentor, Damon had lost an unlikely ally and Stefan had lost the only mother figure he had ever known.

Stifling a pained sob, Bonnie began to chant fervently. "Ó Elora, deontas linn sliocht sábháilte chuig an gceann scríbe a lorg againn. thiocfaidh muid duit go buan, caomhnóirí de go bhfuil tú covet chuid is mó. Tugaim duit an charm de The Ghost Prophetic."

A faint grumbling sounded beneath their feet, reminiscent of what they had heard before the ruins revealed themselves. Something fierce in magnitude churned beneath the surface.

Damon recalled the way each violet charge of energy had emerged from the surrounding stones, plummeting into the central boulder loudly. It was the sound of time and space shifting.

Bonnie kept her eyes shut, deeply immersed in the meaning of the incantation. It was a cry to Elora to grant them safe passage, using Tabitha's amulet as the key to take them there.

"Ó Elora, deontas linn sliocht sábháilte chuig an gceann scríbe a lorg againn. thiocfaidh muid duit go buan, caomhnóirí de go bhfuil tú covet chuid is mó. Tugaim duit an charm de The Ghost Prophetic."

The brothers stood transfixed by the amethyst beams streaming forth from the surrounding stones. They culminated above the central boulder in one massive whirlpool, swirling rapidly and emitting a sound so ferocious, it made Stefan and Damon feel as though their eardrums were being scraped with a sharp metal instrument.

"Hold on tight!" Bonnie commanded them.

They braced themselves for the impact of a potential magical explosion. Damon could still recall the way a burst of supernatural energy had rippled across the countryside, causing trees to flail backward like descending domino chips.

That's how it was the first time he and Bonnie had visited The Stone Circle. Who knew what it would be like when it actually transported people.

"Close your eyes!" the little witch shouted, as gusts of wind began to hammer them relentlessly.

This had to work. They needed to get home.

If what Fiona had mentioned to them about a storm "brewing" back in Mystic Falls, they needed to be there to stop it from reaching its full potential.

Eyes shut tightly, the gripped the witch more securely and planted their feet even deeper into the earth. Aeolus, the Greek wind God himself, must have been seriously pissed at them for the way he was treating them right now.

Bonnie's cheeks felt like they had been whipped by a leather strap to the point of drawing blood. She whimpered in pain before feeling an arm drawing her closer against his chest.

A female voice howled into the night. "Bhaile!"

Jarred by the stranger's command, they each opened their eyes and found themselves standing smack-dab at the center of a circle of trees – Virginia Elms, to be exact. They were home.

Maya McCullough awoke shrouded in darkness. She now had a bump the size of Texas protruding from the side of her head.

Rubbing the sore spot lightly, she groggily lifted her body from the bone chillingly cold ground. A small yelp escaped from her lips as the top of her head made contact with a barrier of some kind.

Reaching out to her sides, she felt the solid coolness of metal and knew at once, she had been caged by her captor. The last thing she could remember was glaring into those menacing blue eyes.

Then came the ferocious jolt of pain that rammed into her like an oncoming truck. Rufus McCullough was back and as ruthless as ever.

The foul stench of trash hung stubbornly in the air. Her sapphire eyes began to water as she clipped her nose to avoid the smell.

She allowed her fingers to slip through the tiny slots in the cage in order to feel around for something more telling about the place she was now trapped inside. All she could detect was the frigidity of cement in all directions around her.

Taking a deep breath, she squinted against the sudden glare of a light bulb flickering to life above her. He was back.

"Hello, baby sister." His voice slithered into her ears and sent a chill down her spine. "Enjoying the accommodations?"

She swivelled her neck from left to right. Still no sign of him. "I suppose if I were an animal, a cold steel cage might be a little more to my liking."

"Forgive me for not breaking out the fine china and 400 thread count sheets," he threw back casually. "You brought this on yourself, little one."

Her eyes widened as he slowly entered the room. A blue jumpsuit sheathed the lower half of his body and hung carelessly around his waist.

With his back turned to the fairy, he trailed a black comb through his damp mass of hair. "You just couldn't mind your own business, now could you?" he snorted.

"I told you never to come back," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Yes," he conceded with a chuckle. "I remember. You looked into my clear blue eyes and no matter what I had done, you just couldn't muster the balls the do away with me."

"Some of us don't do heartless son-of-a-bitch nearly as well as others,' she returned.

"Careful there," he responded, pointing an index finger in her direction. "This heartless son-of-a-bitch shares a mother with you. So I guess that makes you-"

"The right person to kick your ass," she interjected with renewed rage.

"Somehow that thread holds very little weight with you trapped inside a cage, my dear young one," he slyly returned.

"Why are you here?" she persisted.

"You know why."

"What do you want?"

"Tituba Bennett's little grandwitch," he sneered. "So young. So spirited. So...decidedly delectable. Too bad she has to die."

"You stay away from Bonnie!" the caged fairy shouted, gripping the steel firmly. "She's done nothing wrong."

"Yet." Dark wavy tendrils had begun to dry around Rufus's gaunt face. "That nasty little hybrid will never see the light of day. I will see to that."

"You don't even know her. How can you harbour so much hate for someone you've never even met?"

Clenching his jaw, his lips formed a thing, decisive line. "Nothing will ever be able to erase the memory of Emmeline from my brain. She died at the hands of a dirty warlock. Witches cause nothing but trouble wherever they go."

"Why don't you just stop calling yourself 'Rufus' and get your name legally changed to 'Ignorant and Clueless?'" Maya chucked at him with a sneer.

"Oh yes. Insults certainly will endear me to you even more," he sarcastically replied.

Maya looked around the room and saw bags of trash in one corner and tool kits in another. It seemed like a storage facility of some sort and judging by the worn down candlesticks, miniature cauldrons and scattered clothing, her brother had been seeking refuge here for a little while now.

"I never thought you'd stoop so low," she sighed.

"Hmmm?" he hummed, arranging tools along a wooden shelf before him.

"Joining The Glan. Really, Rufus? What do you think Emmeline would say about all of this?"

A wrench fell from his grasp, landing with a piercing clang on the cement floor. Instead of bending to retrieve it, the devious fairy began to lift the rest of his jumpsuit over his upper body.

"Well Emmeline can't say anything about this, now can she?"

"She wouldn't approve. She would-"

"Can she?" he bellowed, even angrier.

"She would hate the man that you've become!"

If he could shoot daggers with his eyes, Rufus McCullough would have stabbed his sister repeatedly with them. Turning swiftly, he bolted toward the cage and gripped her hands.

"Don't you dare say her name again, you bloody hybrid sympathizer!" he shouted ruthlessly. "I'm here to protect the purity of our kind. There need to be consequences for those who choose to procreate with other Supernaturals. It risks the balance in our world."

"Stop deluding yourself, Rufus," the rosy cheeked, plump woman groaned. "What balance is there in a world filled with only hate? If we were all the same, the world wouldn't be the extraordinary place that it is."

"Some extraordinary world you live in," he scoffed. "Need I remind you of the past? Oh yes, let's see. Father's best friend was a Were. He betrayed him and practically stole his business right out from under him. Mother was killed by a drunk driver – who just happened to be a witch. And the vampires – if they hadn't been so blood thirsty during 1864, The Cleanse would never have come to pass. The mortals would have believed those little tales we weaved about 'animal attacks.'"

"I highly doubt they were singlehandedly responsible for The Cleanse," she replied. "Supernaturals were warring – with one another, might I add. See how far we get when we're at each other's throats?" she returned.

"We don't get much more when we're not."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed deeply. "Those instances you described – they hardly make for a convincing argument. That driver just happened to be a witch. And-and dad's best friend just happened to be a Were," she stammered. "They could have just as easily wound up being Fairies. Then what? Would you fight with yourself?"

"The point is that they weren't. You'd see things my way if you had just come to Brighton with me."

"To congregate with The Glan?" Maya queried, watching him incredulously. "I don't think so."

Rufus was at real low point when Sebastian Kral, the notorious leader of The Glan, had come into his life. That was usually how evil, sadistic men wormed their way into the lives of once good men.

"Where are we anyway?" the blond fairy asked, studying the exposed brick walls and a metal plaque on the wall with blue writing that read 'Waste Storage Facility.' "You know, it's only a matter of time 'til someone realizes I'm missing."

"Perhaps your lesbian lover, Tituba will come and save you," he joked distastefully.

"It's called a 'friendship,'" she corrected him, a stern look in her eyes. "You should try it out some time. Might help alleviate your emotional woes."

"My emotional woes?" he repeated with a sinister laugh.

"I take it that permanent scowl you wear is a direct by product of them," she chucked in.

"No. That's just a natural response to being back here in this dump of a town,' he retorted.

"So leave."

"No. I think not," Rufus responded. "Besides, I've already injected you with reverse tracking serum. The old witch can scribe all she wants, but you won't register on her radar."

"Yes, but potions eventually wear off," she pointed out.

"That's right. I'm speaking to the brew master, herself. Then I guess you should probably take into account the fact that this potion wears off in about a year. A lot can happen in such a considerable span of time," he whispered.

Slowly, a maniacal grin spread from cheek to cheek on the dark haired man's face. He straightened out his jumpsuit and rose to a standing position.

Maya instantly caught sight of the name tag over the left side of his chest. _A. Greenwood – Janitorial Staff, Robert E. Lee High School_

"No," Maya gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth. "Please Rufus. Leave her alone. She's just a-"

The sound of a female groaning in pain stopped her from finishing her sentence. She watched as her brother casually sauntered toward a table, sheathed by black cloth.

He lifted it with one swift movement and jumped playfully to the side. "Oh yes. I forgot to mention this earlier. I found you a roomie."

Sherriff Elizabeth Forbes lay on the floor of another cage with her eyes shut and her head in her hands. Though she emitted all the sounds of a woman in agony, Maya could tell she wouldn't be regaining consciousness anytime soon.

"You injected her with sleeping serum, didn't you?" she questioned him, a look of outrage on her face.

"I would say she'll sleep like the dead...but I haven't given her nearly enough for that," he smirked.

"Thank God," she breathed.

"Yet."

Rubbing the side of her head, Maya allowed her gaze to linger on the gash that had begun to clot at the back of Elizabeth Forbes's head. "Let her go. She isn't a part of this," the fairy pleaded.

"She was on to you, baby sister." He watched as a strained expression formed on her childlike face. "Let's not pretend you really care about her. Not to mention... The Council is back in order."

Her eyes widened. "How do you know?"

"Sharp investigative skills. Really, I should be a P.I.," he cockily replied.

"Why haven't you killed her yet? Isn't that...your thing?" she questioned him, a disgusted look on her face.

"More often than not, yes. But I've got big plans for Lizzie Forbes."

"Like what?"

He moved back and forth before her eyes before grinning devilishly. "Just wait and see."

Glaring at his janitorial garb, she silently scolded Principal Williamson for being so irresponsible when it came to conducting thorough employee background checks. How on earth could he hire Rufus?

"How long have you been here?" she inquired, her eyes never leaving the blue and white nametag.

"A little while now," he answered simply, pretending to dust off his shoulder.

"And yet...Bonnie is still alive?" Her brother was a merciless sod. If he wanted Bonnie dead, he would do everything in his power to make certain that happened.

"Well I seem to have encountered a little problem. Bonnie hasn't been to school in several days," he lamented, while pinching his chin reflectively with his thumb and index finger. "Know anything about that, My?"

"No," she lied.

"Not to worry. I'll find her soon enough. And when I do, not even that fanged protector of hers will be able to stop me."

Stefan watched as the color returned to Elena's face. Her warm lips had created a vacuum seal on his wrist where just moments before, he had gnawed at his own flesh in order to feed her.

They were back at the Boarding House now and in his room. She lay on the cream-colored sheets, craning her neck forward and moaning as his life force trickled down her oesophagus.

The word that had been so painfully etched into her forehead began to diminish. "Duine." He would never forget it.

She fervently lapped up every drop that emerged with her tongue. The lithe brunette was ravenous for him – and him for her.

Her body arched toward him, trying desperately to gain better access to the wound. At first, the taste had been salty and metallic; now it was sweet and addictive.

The hazel-eyed vampire groaned in both pain and pleasure as he felt her suckle with great intensity on the opening. Her chocolate brown eyes were full of life again.

Carefully breaking her hold on his arm, he urged her to stop drinking. There was more than enough vampire blood flowing through her veins now for him to sire her if he pleased.

The thought of an eternity with Elena Gilbert by his side was more than just a little tempting to him. He desired her – mind, body and soul.

He just couldn't deny her the chance to live life to the fullest extent. While it was true that she would age and he would not, nothing could ever change the way he felt about her.

Framing her face with his hands, he nuzzled her nose and pressed his lips tenderly against hers. "You did great, baby," Stefan whispered gently.

Hot tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Her ordeal with The Fior had frightened her more than anything else had in her life.

She wanted to be strong. She wanted to feel something other than helpless or only human.

Besides, Stefan couldn't be her bodyguard twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Even as she tugged at the collar of his green plaid shirt and kissed him fervently, she knew this.

His fingers were intertwined in her chocolate locks as he whispered tender words against her lips. He could taste the saltiness of her tears as they trickled down her flushed cheeks.

The death of Fiona Reid had only served to reinforce the fragility of life. One second, the person you love could be standing before you; the next, they could be plucked from your arms and never returned.

The thought of losing Elena was too much to bear. Tugging her closer until they were chest to chest, he reluctantly broke the kiss. "_Nothing_," he breathed raggedly. "_Nothing_ will change this. I will love you 'til the end."

Cupping his face with the palms of her hands, she pressed her lips sweetly against his. A solitary tear had cascaded down his cheek and landed on her index finger.

"I will love you with my last breath," she declared with great intensity.

They made love that night four times. Perhaps it was the fright of almost losing one another or the longing for a lover you haven't seen in far too long.

Whatever it was, Stefan and Elena moved with such urgency and passion. Then, as the brown eyed mortal felt herself nearing the peak of ecstasy, she tilted her neck to one side and permitted him to drink from her.

"Are you sure?" he wondered aloud, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"I've never been so sure of anything else in my life," she beamed up at him.

With that, he plunged his canines into her pale pliant flesh and drank.

Bonnie sat inside the porcelain claw foot tub as naked as the day she was born. The scent of sweet figs and lavender from the bubbles filled her nostrils.

She needed this. Just one moment to remind her that she could experience some normalcy.

She was physically drained and emotionally distraught. Fiona was no longer a part of their world; she had made the ultimate sacrifice.

With her death, the Bellwain bloodline had come to an end. Bonnie had already shed countless tears on the way back to town; now she was just numb.

She was just glad not to be alone. Now, more than ever before, she needed someone to lean on.

He just happened to be outside the bathroom door right now.

Damon, she thought. He had been doing everything in his power to make her smile or laugh. If he wasn't making one of his witty irreverent quips, he was saying something horribly inappropriate just to keep her from wallowing in despair.

She found it rather touching – heart warming, really. He genuinely seemed to care for her.

Their first night together remained etched in her memory. She could still recall the way his sinewy, masculine frame had convulsed against her pliant, feminine physique. It was that delicious moment – when they came together.

He had been unexpectedly tender – the kind of lover she would have expected Stefan to be. Speak of the devil, she thought, hearing three knocks on the oak door.

"What's goin' on in there, beautiful?" she heard Damon utter from the other side. "Trying to figure out the meaning of life on the john?" he joked.

_Typical guy thing to say._ "No. I'm in the tub," she replied.

"Naked?" he asked with a particularly boyish tone to his voice.

"No Damon. I decided to jump in with all my clothes on," she beamed, knowing full well his dirty mind was heading even further south as they spoke.

"Well that's no fun," he whined playfully. "Young lady, how do you expect to get fully clean if you don't take off all your clothes?"

"I dunno," she breathily replied, biting down on her lower lip. "Guess I don't mind being a little...dirty." _Score one for me._

"Ugh," he groaned, hammering a fist against the door. "Why are you so mean to me?"

"Because I can," she offered sweetly.

"Is that so?" he inquired, feeling supremely turned on by her teasing behavior.

"Mmmhmm," she answered simply. With a reluctant sigh, Bonnie began to rise from the tub and scanned the metal rack for her cream colored towel.

"Seriously though, you decent yet?" Damon inquired, leaning casually against the doorframe, a Cheshire Cat-like grin stretching sinisterly from cheek to cheek.

"Not quite," she hollered, trying to secure the fabric around her svelte figure.

Her hands fumbled as the door swung open rapidly, bringing a cold swoosh of air into the room. Damon stood before her, devastatingly sex, damn smug and without a shirt on his beautifully carved chest.

Bonnie breathed a sigh of relief because the fabric had managed to stay fastened around her physique somehow. "You know, that wasn't exactly an invitation," she hotly replied, feeling his arms encircle her tiny waist.

They now stood before a full length oval mirror. Damon swiped his right hand repetitively across the fogged up surface until they could both gleam their reflections again.

"You said you weren't decent," he reminded her. "To me, that sounded like a promising scenario."

Winking at her in the mirror, he watched as she licked her lips in anticipation. Her own gaze was fixed hungrily on his mouth. That pleased him to no end.

Damon rewarded her with a trail of soft kisses along her shoulder. He felt her shudder against him as his cold fingertips tilted her chin up so they were now observing one another intently.

He pressed his lips lingeringly against hers and swallowed the excited moan that emanated from her throat. This was his opportunity to strip the witch of her defences – and clothing.

He tugged at the towel with such force that it dropped to the floor within a single second. "Mmm," he remarked, taking a step back to observe every inch of her naked physique. "Delicious."

Bonnie glared at him in partial disbelief. "Bet you say that to all the other girls."

"Maybe," he admitted with a smirk, twirling a lock of her dark hair around his index finger. "But this time I mean it."

"Is that a fact?" she questioned him with her hands braced defiantly on her unsheathed hips. "Does that mean I've actually succeeded in making an honest man out of you?"

Hauling her roughly against his chiselled chest, her whispered into her left ear. "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

"Alright," she replied, feeling his arms tighten around her waist. "But first you might wanna loosen up that grip. A girl's gotta breathe."

"Among other things," he offered seductively, nibbling lightly on her delicate earlobe.

She felt enraptured as he quickly spun her around again so their bodies were facing the mirror. His right hand had managed to slither up her thigh, now wreaking havoc on her senses as his fingers titillated the sensitive nerves between her thighs.

"Bonnie," he whispered in a sing-song voice.

"Ah..." It was all she could muster as his thumb and index finger mischievously pinched the nub inside of her, so wet and aroused by the way their bodies were fused together right now.

"Do you...like to watch?" he queried, shifting his attention to her heaving breasts.

His eyes wandered ravenously over the dark aureoles and the way her nipples had hardened with his touch. Bonnie tugged harshly on his midnight locks as his fingers began to tease and fondle each mound of flesh.

"Damon," she breathed raggedly, feeling his stiff cock brushing against her derriere.

His fingers moved deeper inside of her, thrusting in and out until she felt like her knees would buckle. "You never answered my question," he smoothly exclaimed, tracing circles around her navel with his free hand.

"Ah...I...Damon..." Nothing made a single shred of sense. Her thoughts were fuzzy, like a swirl of naughty and forbidden all in one.

His throaty laughter filled the small room. Damon leaned in and began to nibble tauntingly on her earlobe. "I'll take that 'ah...I...Damon' as a 'Yes baby. It really turns me on.'"

His eyes were alight with mischief. She wanted to slap him for his smugness and ravish him for his ability to make her feel like a wanton sex goddess at the drop of a dime.

Turning her in his arms, she sighed exasperatedly as his fingers retreated from her moist core. "Don't worry," he soothed. "I always finish what I start."

With those final words of reassurance, Bonnie felt herself hoisted up until her legs were locked securely around his body. Damon had her back pressed against the marble tiled wall, still fully visible in the large mirror.

His dark wash jeans were already down to his knees. Bonnie whimpered into his ear at the precise moment his moist shaft entered her.

His cool lips trailed down her neck to the valley between her breasts. Devouring one tumescent nipple, he flicked his tongue over it repeatedly until her back arched more fully against him.

Bonnie observed the way his forearms flexed in the mirror, as held their bodies together. It felt so sinful and yet so right being here like this.

Damon ground his hips against hers and felt a sensation rip right through him. It was raw and fraught with need. She was everything he wanted and he would show her with every determined thrust and each all-consuming kiss.

"Don't stop," she moaned breathlessly. "Don't stop. Don't. Ever. Stop."

Damon did as he was told – quite happily.

His plundered her lips mercilessly with his own, as their bodies moved rhythmically together. The sound of her heartbeat accelerating with each passing moment filled his ears like some masterful symphony.

She began to tighten around his throbbing erection. Damon couldn't wait anymore. He needed to have her. Needed to feel her shudder violently against him.

Plunging into her with greater intensity, he heard her cry out in wild abandon. She pulled him closer with her arms and nuzzled his neck.

Damon placed slow, gentle kisses along her shoulder. For once in his existence, he knew what love felt like. It felt like Bonnie.

Pressing his lips against her forehead, the sapphire-eyed vampire gathered his little witch in his arms and placed her on his black iron-framed bed. He tugged the charcoal silk sheets up until their bodies were fully sheathed.

With her back pressed against his chest, Damon held her in place with his arms and waited until she fell into deep slumber. Only then could he tell her what he had come to realize and accept in the last 24 hours.

"Isn't this a strange turn of events?" he whispered with a slight chuckle. "You and me."

He inhaled her fragrance deeply. "Guess it kind of freaked me out at first. Actually, I think it might freak you out a little more if I say this to you when you're awake...so I'm saying it to you now."

He gulped aloud. "I'm in love with you."


	15. Chapter 15

_Hey Bamon fans! I've got another update for you. It's a huge one, but I have to say, I really enjoyed writing it. Five more chappies to go! _

_Thank you again to all the phenomenal readers and reviewers out there. I always appreciate hearing your thoughts on what I'm putting out there, so keep 'em coming. _

_I absolutely love the songs mentioned below and I think they go beautifully with our pair, so enjoy! _

_P.S. I do not own the characters or storyline represented in TVD - show version or book version. They remain the property of L.J. Smith and the CW Network. _

"Don't Wait" by Dashboard Confessional

"Wicked Game" by H.I.M.

"Show Me Your Teeth" by Lady Gaga

"I'd Come For You" by Nickelback

**Chapter 15: Deeper**

Streams of sunlight bled through the partially drawn maroon curtains. It blanketed their naked intertwined bodies in a sheet of gold.

Damon could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against his ribcage. Her eyes were still shut and her lips were curved into the most angelic smile.

What he wouldn't give to just lay here like this for an eternity.

Her long raven locks were a tousled seductive mess and as he leaned in to inhale the sweet lavender of her shampoo, he wondered if his little confession last night had really gone unheard.

Damon Salvatore rarely fell into anything. He either went willingly or not at all. Yet somehow, he had fallen in love with the little witch slumbering peacefully in his arms.

She looked radiant beneath the warm glow of the sun. He drank in the sight of her naturally pink cheeks and the enticing butterscotch hue of her skin.

In this lighting it was hard to tell where she began and he ended. They were intricately tangled limbs on sheets of luxurious silk.

Damon fussed with his unkempt midnight locks until the feel of soft wet lips on his chest garnered his attention. Glancing down, he found a pair of bewitching emerald orbs gazing affectionately up at him.

Flashing his trademark side swept smirk, he playfully squeezed her bottom. "Morning, _green eyes_."

"_Very_ good morning," she yawned, attempting to sit upright for a quick stretch. His hand remained splayed at the small of her back, holding her firmly in place. "You look like the cat that just got the cream," she remarked, stroking his cheek gently with her fingers.

After a night like the one they had just shared, he had every reason to be sporting the wide toothy grin that stretched from one pale cheek to the other. Damon leaned in close until their lips were inches apart. "_Meow._"

Bonnie pinched his chest teasingly. "Naughty," she sighed.

She knew exactly how to coax the most delicious moans from him. Placing another searing kiss on his abdomen this time, she watched as he responded to the way her tongue traced slow, purposeful circles around his navel.

"You love me when I'm bad," he exclaimed breathily.

Before she knew it, she was being flung onto her back and pressed securely against the firm mattress. Damon was braced on all fours over her body like some fierce predatory beast might do to its prey.

He wanted to devour every mouthwatering inch of her body all over again.

The sounds of those sexy little whimpers that emerged from her full lips were like heaven for his ears. Their bodies stirred in unadulterated lust while their lips became fused together in pure bliss.

With his body now resting fully on hers, Damon leaned in and nuzzled the delicate heated flesh of her throat. "I have an idea," he whispered, allowing his fingers to flick simultaneously over her milk chocolate nipples. "Screw the world. People suck anyway. How 'bout we lock ourselves in here for all eternity, leave that whole _saving the Supernatural world_ bit to Stefan and Elena and just focus on what's really important for a change?"

"Such as?" Bonnie queried, feigning complete innocence with a shrug of her shoulders and a naive expression in her eyes. She knew exactly what constituted _"important"_ in that deliciously wicked mind of his.

"For starters," he smoothly exclaimed, taking a moment to nibble lightly on her earlobe. "This." He was certainly skilled at eliciting sounds from the little witch she didn't even know she was capable of making.

Bonnie cooed into his ear and arched her back in response. The feel of his steadily protruding arousal against her stomach made her entire body feel like it would burst into flames.

Spontaneous. Sexual. Combustion.

The midnight-locked vampire allowed one cold hand to slither down her warm abdomen before resting mischievously between her thighs. She quivered momentarily against him.

Bonnie drank in the sight of him, all sinewy strength braced above her with such astounding tenderness and seductiveness mingled together in his clear blue eyes.

"Now this," he whispered against her lips. "_This_ is a matter of the _utmost importance_."

Damon began to stroke her sensitive inner walls with his index finger. The warm moistness he felt there was telling enough. She wanted him – _badly_.

Bonnie gasped when he inserted another finger, this time tending to the swollen nub beneath those soft folds of flesh. She raked her nails down his muscular shoulder blades and felt herself begin to flex around him involuntarily as he continued his sinful assault on her body.

Damon claimed her lips with an aggressive grunt, prying her lips apart with his darting tongue. She moaned into his mouth, consumed by the euphoric, desirous feelings coursing through her veins.

She ground her hips against his thrusting, capable fingers repeatedly. Then in one final determined motion, he shattered her walls and sent her reeling toward ecstasy.

"Were you a pianist in another life?" she breathed raggedly against his mischievously upturned lips.

"No," he smirked.

"You should've been," Bonnie exclaimed, feeling her cheeks grow red with her slightly corny recognition of his ability to 'tickle the ivories.' In this case said instrument was nestled between her brown thighs and the maestro had just given a rather _extraordinary performance_.

Damon chuckled against her cheek. "_Mmm._ Is that your way of _complimenting me?_" he inquired with a boyish smirk.

"So long as you don't let it go to your head," she returned with a grin.

"_Which head?"_ he whispered into her ear with a teasing smile.

Bonnie smacked him playfully on the upper arm and rolled with him across the mattress until he was beneath her naked form. With his arms outstretched above his head, she laced her fingers through his and held him securely in place.

He was fascinated by her for a number of reasons – boldness ranking high on that list. A flicker of pure delight danced around in those hypnotic baby blues.

"We should probably get out of bed," she sighed, feeling his cool silky lips brush languorously against the side of her dangling breast.

They had many tasks ahead of them today and the more they prolonged the inevitable, the more tiring it would be to accomplish their goals. Still, Damon Salvatore was having none of this talk of common sense. Not when they were connected so intimately to one another – on _his_ bed, no less.

Pulling her body back onto his, Damon tightened his hold on her waist. "Must we go through the pros of staying in bed _with yours truly_ for an eternity again, young lady?" He wiggled his eyebrows tauntingly.

Trying to quell desire when those sapphire orbs were staring into your soul wasn't easy. _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ That was the only reply racing rapidly through her mind.

"As much as I'd welcome a repeat performance," she beamed down at him. "We still have a Supernatural world to take care of."

"_I'm_ a Supernatural," he offered with droopy puppy dog eyes. "_I_ need taking care of. Doesn't _that_ count for anything?"

She stared at him thoughtfully for a long while. Once upon a time Damon Salvatore used to make her seethe with fury. Now he made her laugh until she could barely breathe.

Pressing her lips tenderly against his forehead, she whispered into his ear. "You count for a lot."

Damon could have sworn his unbeating heart just skipped a beat.

"So do you," he admitted, brushing aside a rebellious lock of raven hair from her beautiful face.

That brief statement was enough to elicit a heartfelt smile from her. She was more moved than she could express verbally to him.

"Blue," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"_Blue?"_ he scoffed.

"My new nickname for you," she proudly declared. "Unless you prefer _'homicidal vampire'_," she laughed.

"I kinda like the last one," he smirked. "Has a nice ring to it. The other one just reminds me of a sappy love song."

"Well get used to it," she replied adamantly, framing his face with her hands.

"_Why?"_ he whined almost childishly.

"I like your eyes," she conceded. "_That's_ why."

Damon batted his dark lashes in reply. "Is that _all_ you like about me?" he inquired, staring intently into her sage tinged irises.

It was almost unnerving, the way he seemed to stare right into her. It was like her soul had been stripped of its armour and was now on public display for the world to see – only Damon was the world and she wasn't entirely certain of what he saw when he looked at her.

It was obvious enough that they were sexually compatible; they could barely keep their hands to themselves. Then there was that emotional bond that had developed so quickly between them.

But how could it be defined. How could _they _be defined? Were they even_ definable_ yet?

Frankly, it was mindboggling that they were even able to feel so comfortable in each other's company, given their rather sordid history. But the way she felt right now went beyond simple "comfort."

She felt – in a word – safe.

"I like _a lot_ about you," she admitted more shyly than she would have preferred to sound.

"Is that so?" he grinned cockily.

Bonnie felt her cheeks flush. If she had a mirror right now, they probably would have been stained bright crimson, she surmised.

"Yes," she admitted, burying her face in his chest.

She could feel the vibration of his vocal chords as he chuckled in response. His fingers were gently entwined in her silky locks as he mustered the courage to at least voice a fraction of his true sentiments.

"Ditto."

"_Ditto?"_ she repeated in partial disbelief, her face still pressed against his chest.

Bonnie slowly lifted her gaze and found him grinning devilishly at her. He knew exactly how to get a rise out of her.

"Ditto," she uttered again. "And here I was expecting a poetic verse or some monumental declaration of '_Bonnie, I don't hate you anymore. Bonnie, I'-_"

"I _never_ _hated_ you," he quickly inserted, sealing her voluptuous lips with his index finger. "That was something _you_ assumed. As I explained before, I was only mad at Emily the night I attacked...attacked..."

Damon Salvatore was at a loss for words again.

Here he was – a vampire nearing 170 years of age and yet somehow he managed to become singlehandedly silenced, humbled and totally bewitched by a 17-year-old. Her eyes bore deeply into him and for the first time in his afterlife, he felt stark naked.

Then again, he _was_ stark naked. And so was she.

"It's okay, you know?" Her words came out in a hush tone as she caressed his cheek with her palm. "You don't have to wallow in guilt for the rest of your life because of what happened before."

"Why not?" he wondered aloud, pulling her closer so their lips brushed as they spoke. "Most people think I'm the devil incarnate...and maybe I am for all the things I've done."

"Maybe you are," she offered.

Damon eyed her curiously. He wasn't exactly expecting her to leap into agreement with him.

"You hurt a lot of people over the years," she continued in a soft reflective tone. "I suppose the _'sane'_ thing to do would be to just hate you."

"It would be rather _'sane'_ of you," he commented.

"The thing is," said Bonnie, her gaze fixed on his. "I don't. I don't hate you _at all_."

"Now I'm _really_ beginning to question your sanity," he teased.

Shifting her body, the little witch lay on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Damon followed her movements, cozying up by her side with his arm flung possessively across her bare stomach.

Bonnie turned her head so their eyes met and grasped his hand firmly. "This is going to sound crazy," she prefaced her next revelation.

"You _don't_ hate me. Can't get much crazier than that," he chucked in.

Smacking him hard on the shoulder, she couldn't help but giggle in reply. "Guess I should be committed for that alone," she responded. They observed each other in silence for a while.

"I used to think I would die young." The words escaped from her lips far too easily for his taste. Damon gripped her hand more securely – reassuringly.

"Why would you think that?" he queried, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I used to have this recurring dream as a child," she explained. "One minute I'd be racing through the woods near Old Fell's Church and the next, I'd wind up lying in a pool of my own blood."

Damon shuddered at the gruesome thought as it filled her mind before entering his own. The sight of her lifeless body on a mound of grass with an open wound at her stomach gushing blood made him sick.

"I've never told anyone about that before," she revealed in a tone barely audible to mortal ears.

"Well I'm glad you told _me_," he replied, feeling genuinely baffled and uncharacteristically moved.

Bonnie pressed her forehead gently against his. "I just feel so safe..._with you_."

The sapphire-eyed vampire gathered her lithe body in his sinewy arms and held her so close it felt like they had literally become one. He needed her to know that absolutely nothing bad would happen to her.

Whatever twisted notions may have plagued her dreams as a child, they would never come into fruition – not in this lifetime and certainly not if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

The delectable aroma of scrambled eggs, crisp fatty bacon, toast and freshly ground coffee wafted through the living room from the Salvatore kitchen. Bonnie inhaled it deeply before nudging open the oak door.

Elena beamed up at her from the kitchen table with such childlike bliss that Bonnie immediately had a flashback to the first day they met. She was 4-years-old when a pint-sized brunette with a round nose approached her giddily.

They bonded over an afternoon of moulding Play-Doh, navigating every twist and turn of the jungle gym together and building sand castles – which Tyler Lockwood and his then band of snobs quickly quashed.

So much had changed since those simple days when life could be chalked up to spending a day with your buds and the only glare you received came from the sun.

"Bonnie!" the statuesque teen shrieked uncontrollably, leaping up from her seat beside an elated looking Stefan Salvatore.

"Elena," the little witch breathed into her thick chocolate locks. "I missed you so much."

They embraced for what seemed like an eternity – but even that wasn't long enough. They had already been through so much and the mere thought of letting go of one another was out of the question.

With both girls clearly on the verge of tears, Stefan approached them clutching a pink box of Kleenex.

"Impeccable timing, as usual," Bonnie giggled, plucking one feather light sheet and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. Elena sniffled as she swiped at the cascading fluid on her rosy cheeks.

"I do what I can," he smiled, leaning casually against the richly hued island with his arms crossed and a warm smile plastered on his youthful face. It overjoyed him to see Elena in the arms of her best friend again; it was in such stark contrast to the broken girl he had lifted from the floor of the underground cavern the night before.

"Glad to see the _terrible twosome_ reunited again," he teased, referencing his little term of endearment for their sacred sisterhood.

"That's right," Bonnie replied.

"Better watch out, Salvatore. We're a force to be reckoned with," Elena threw in with her fists balled up playfully in front of him.

"Hah," a familiar male voice chimed in amusedly from the doorway. "Leave it to Saint Stefan to get his ass handed to him by a couple of girls."

"Damon." Elena regarded him with the same frigid tone she had reserved specially for him.

"Elena." He replied in a similar tone, dripping with hostility. "Glad to see Stefan's got his old _ball and chain_ back."

"Funny, I was always under the impression that was _your_ role," she retorted crisply, offering him her most sinister sneer.

"Turns out _you're_ my _lacklustre_ replacement," he returned with a shit eating grin she wanted so badly to claw from his unnaturally handsome face.

"Damon," Bonnie inserted in a reprimanding tone. "Please. Just _be nice."_

"It's okay, Bonnie," Elena replied calmly. "We all know there's no point in asking Damon to do something he's _clearly incapable of._"

Her eyes darted uneasily from her best friend to the man who had unexpectedly begun to feel like her legitimate boyfriend. She gulped aloud and caught Stefan gazing sympathetically at her.

If anyone knew what it meant to endure a Damon and Elena hate fest, he did. Getting them to tolerate each other for even five minutes was equivalent to the type of stress one might endure while attempting to frame sensible U.S. foreign policy.

They detested each other. End of story.

_Then again_, thought Stefan rather profoundly. _Bonnie used to hate Damon with the fire of a thousand suns._ Yet now, they were so close.

_Love_, he chuckled inwardly. _Damon is in love with Bonnie Bennett. Hmmm. Wonder if he's said anything to her yet._

Damon caught his last string of thoughts and rolled his eyes in annoyance. _That would be what the French call 'none of your goddamn business.'_

Stefan shook his head in irritation. _Stop using the French to justify your stupidity._

_Go brood in someone else's face already. _

Their silent argument would have escalated if not for the onslaught of thoughts swirling through Bonnie's mind.

_What the hell am I going to do about them? Shit. Good job, Bonnie. You just had to go and fall for Damon Salvatore, didn't you?_

The blue-eyed vampire's lips curved into a smile of absolute satisfaction. _Don't blame yourself, green eyes. Blame your great, great, great – shit. How 'great' is Emily again, Stef? Oh well. Blame her. Tabitha too. _

Clutching his chin reflectively with his thumb and index finger, Damon smirked like a schoolyard rascal as another thought stumbled into his brain. _Then again, with luscious lips like these and a six pack worth writing home about, who could blame sweet Bonnie for giving into her white hot desires?_

Stefan eyed him incredulously. _Cocky much?_

_You have no idea_. Damon flashed him a cheeky grin.

"Damon," Stefan began aloud in a serious tone. "Maybe we should give Bonnie and Elena some alone time. They deserve it, _don't you think?"_

"He _doesn'_t, actually," Elena replied full of disdain for the blue-eyed vampire. "Thinking requires effort and consideration. Something else your egotistical, self-indulgent brother is _highly incapable of_."

Bonnie noted the raging bull expressions on both of their faces and sighed exasperatedly. _Please Elora, if you're listening, get them to stop fighting! _

"We'll be in the backyard," Stefan replied, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Damon, _let's go_."

He watched as the dark-haired vampire slowly sauntered toward the petite witch. Snaking his arms around her tiny waist, he leaned in and placed a searing kiss on her lips.

Elena grimaced at the sight of her best friend exchanging saliva with the same jerk who once tried to take a chunk out of her throat. The lithe brunette could still recall the day Stefan's sleaze bag of a brother tried to put the moves on her in the parking lot outside Robert E. Lee.

Needless to say, he left Bonnie standing there completely breathless with fully flushed cheeks. On the inside, the dark-haired Supernatural was screaming _'Run after him! Grab him, yank him into the nearest closet and get it on!'_ Yet on the outside, she did her best to remain calm and composed.

Damon, of course, had access to her brainwaves. Her last idea caused him to turn around and wink rather suggestively in her direction.

Bonnie blushed profusely again, while her best friend fired daggers at him with her eyes. _Asshole_, Elena shot at him mentally.

Stefan caught her insult and silently hoped his brother would refrain from retaliating. _Don't even think about it_, he thought, channelling the words into Damon's head.

_Then you might want to muzzle Saintlena_, he returned.

_Who are you – the thought police? She's entitled to think whatever she wants about you._ Stefan shook his head irritably.

The younger Salvatore clenched his jaw and gave his brother a light shove to encourage him to move in the same direction he was heading in. Damon growled. _Hands off the Versace._

Bonnie breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally alone. Needless to say, she had a lot of explaining to do and Elena was waiting with her hands braced on her hips, ready to read her the dating riot act.

"So?" the mortal teen queried impatiently. "What the hell has been going on between you and Damon while I've been gone?"

_Here we go_, Bonnie groaned inwardly. "Why don't we sit down first?" she suggested, reaching out to grasp Elena's hand. Reluctantly, the fuming young woman agreed.

"Okay. I'm sitting. Now spill," she demanded in an icy tone she rarely ever used with the petite witch.

Nervously pretending to smooth out the wrinkles on her strapless sage hued summer dress, the green-eyed Supernatural silently said a prayer to the Witch Goddess. _Please help Elena understand. It just happened. Things changed. __**He **__changed. _

"So?" the mortal continued. "I'm waiting."

Bonnie stuttered as she strained to recollect the precise moment where the tides had truly begun to turn. "The night of the dance," she breathed. "We kissed."

"You what?" Elena's eyes widened in a mix of shock and disgust. "But you were there with Matt."

"Matt was my date," she admitted. "But we weren't really there _together_. Not like a couple. Matt knows that. He knows we're _just friends_."

"It makes no sense, Bonnie. He tried to kill you. He hurt Caroline, turned Vicki, terrorized Stefan for years, hit on _me_ – _you're_ best friend – not too long ago and let's not forget the real clincher. _He's a coldblooded killer!_"

She shuddered in remembrance of all the heinous acts Damon Salvatore had committed without remorse. Yet somehow, in the run up to prophesied Supernatural warfare, he had emerged a far more complex man than she had anticipated.

Damon did feel remorse for some of the things he had done. That much was obvious each time he winced painfully at the memory of her body lying on the forest floor the night she had destroyed Emily's amber amulet.

"I haven't forgotten _any_ of the things he's done, Elena. I know what he was. Now I know who he _is_," she said simply.

"And who is that, pray tell?" the brunette questioned her, taking a sip of her piping hot coffee.

"For starters, he's not the same homicidal freak show we used to make fun of," Bonnie grinned, reaching for a slice of honey wheat toast slathered in butter. "When you were kidnapped, he really came through for me and Stefan. And you too."

"Me?" she replied in total disbelief. "How?"

"Stefan was a wreck after you were taken by The Three. He wallowed in self-deprecation. He blamed himself for not being strong enough to save you, Elena. Damon was there to support him – every step of the way. He never once hesitated about boarding a flight to Dublin to save you."

The lanky brunette was too surprised to speak. Tucking a silky lock of chestnut hair behind her ear, she sighed deeply. "It _wasn't_ Stefan's fault. They were too strong. They shot him, Bonnie. Over and o-over again. One wooden bullet after the next."

Her voice cracked mid-way. Elena was now caught up in reliving one of the most intense moments of her life – the night of her swift capture.

Bonnie reached out and grasped her hand reassuringly. "But he's okay now. Stefan's fine. Part of that is because of Damon. He stayed by his side through thick and thin...the same way he was with me."

Elena glanced up at her again and listened intently. "I was really thrown when Grams told me about The Prophecy. In a split second, my entire world had gone...topsy turvy," the witch explained. "Me and Damon? That seemed about as likely as me and – I dunno, George Bush."

The wide-eyed mortal chuckled lightly in response. "Damon _is_ a weapon of mass destruction," she grinned, reflecting on the rather controversial years of Bush's reign.

"Sometimes," Bonnie smiled. "But he protected me in Ireland. I mean, you saw him in the cave last night. He literally flung his body in front of mine like a shield _every time_ one of The Three tried to attack me... And there's something else."

"What else could there possibly be?" Elena wondered aloud, arching her brow inquisitively.

"I drank from him."

"You what?" she balked.

"While we were in Ireland, I became possessed a few times. It took a lot out of me, so Damon-"

"Sliced open a vein for you? How profoundly romantic," she remarked sarcastically.

"Elena," Bonnie replied more seriously this time. "I know you hate him. And I know you have your reasons._ I_ had _my own_ reasons. But when we were in Ireland things began to feel...different. His walls came down and all of a sudden, I got to see the loyal, fiercely protective side of him. And if I'm totally honest with myself and you, I think I'm..."

"You're what?" Elena observed her with a mix of curiosity and fear. Was Bonnie in love with Damon?

"I think I'm..._in love_...with _him_." There it was – the revelation the little witch had been keeping to herself for the past few hours.

She peered up at her best friend meekly, hoping the long haired brunette wouldn't burst into another tirade about how undeserving Damon was of love. She had already told him that herself – the day before the dance when she had paid him an unexpected visit at the Boarding House.

"Have you two..._you know_," Elena uttered suggestively. While one part of her desired to know the truth, the other part was busy grimacing at the possibility of the word 'yes' slipping from her best friend's lips.

"Twice." Bonnie felt her cheeks grow warm immediately. "And then again...this morning."

"Damon Salvatore was _your first_," the mortal teen dismally exclaimed. "Wow. I don't know what else to say."

"You can be my best friend and ask me how it was," Bonnie suggested with a gentle smile.

"Okay. How was it?" Elena queried in a stilted fashion.

"It was incredible," the raven-haired witch gushed. "He was so...tender."

"Tender? Damon?"

"I know. I wasn't expecting that either," she agreed. "But the moment I told him it was my first time; he slowed down and made me feel like I was the only person that mattered in the world."

"Caring, attentive Damon. I think _Hell hath frozen over_," Elena flatly stated, much to her best friend's chagrin. Biting her lips, she felt her emotions beginning to overwhelm her. "B, you know I love you. You're family as far as I'm concerned. I just don't trust him."

Bonnie didn't know whether the hot tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks were due to the realization that the two people who mattered most to her – besides Grams and her dad – might never get along or because Elena had a point. Her common sense and her humanity were warring with one another; give Damon the benefit of the doubt or condemn him for every savage act he's ever committed.

Common sense was losing this battle – by a landslide.

Then Elena raised the one subject that had managed to go unmentioned throughout their conversation. "I want what's best for you, but Damon Salvatore is _far from that_. He has issues, Bonnie. Issues that _need_ to be resolved before he can _ever_ be what you deserve. I won't accept any less for you. I'd sooner stake him myself than allow him to use you and your powers to get inside that tomb – _for her_."

"_Katherine."_ Bonnie's voice quivered as the name of his past lover slipped from her trembling full lips. Her restraint had worn away just enough to allow a single tear to trickle down her cherry-tinged cheeks.

Elena moved forward at the sight of her friend's obvious pain and wrapped her arms protectively around her as if to shield her from the storm that would soon rage on around them. "I'm so sorry, B. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just don't want you to get hurt. You know how long he's been waiting for her."

She knew. But both vampire and witch had been far too immersed in their growing affections toward one another that the narcissistic, pretty little thing had gone completely unreferenced.

Releasing the little witch from her grasp, Elena stared intently into her emerald eyes. "Ask yourself this question and answer it honestly. How certain are you that he doesn't love her still?"

Try as she might to simply erase his more than century and a half of pining, the truthful answer hurt like hell. It felt like someone was driving a wooden stake through _her _heart.

"Elena," she whispered, feeling more streams of wetness glide along her face. "I d-don't know for a fact that he doesn't still feel for her. I only know how _I feel_ when I'm around him. It's something I've never felt before. At first I was so conflicted. I had every reason to turn and run, but I didn't. When I look into his eyes now, I see...I see the most incredible passion and intensity. I see all of the things I imagined I would see in the eyes of the man I wanted to be with."

"But does he love you?" the brown-eyed mortal persisted.

If only she had been awake during his late night revelation. "I-I'm not entirely sure. I think so. I get this rush of elation that just swirls around in my stomach. It feels like butterflies – only more intense."

Deciding to back off a little, Elena led Bonnie to the window and wrapped her arms around her again in a sisterly embrace. "I love that he makes you feel that way, B. You deserve that and more. I guess I just need him to step up – _even more_. I need to see that he's really become the man you say he has."

"What does _Stefan_ say?" Bonnie wondered aloud, wiping away the trail of tears along her cheeks.

"I actually thought I'd entered the Twilight Zone when Stefan told me about you and Damon. I couldn't believe it...until I heard it from you," she admitted, leaning her chin on the witch's shoulder. "I know it was prophesied and on some level, I should've been expecting this...but I guess a big part of me was hoping Grams would be able to magically reverse everything. It still throws me for a loop. "

"Understatement of the year," Bonnie laughed. Momentarily silence. "I love you, Elena. You're my best friend and what _you_ think matters to me. I want you two to get along someday. "

"When worms have ears," Elena chuckled.

"Elena!" Bonnie replied with a girlish giggle. "Come on. _I_ gave Stefan a chance. So give Damon one."

"Stefan and Damon are _entirely_ different," she adamantly stated.

"Maybe not," the witch returned. "Maybe they're more alike than you think."

"I don't know about that," the brunette responded. "Look, this idea you've got – _me and Damon getting along _– it isn't gonna happen overnight. I'm not just gonna head out to some random bar, chug brewskies with him like we're instant buds, reflect on life and forget that he nearly killed you."

"I'm not asking you to forget. I just need you to try."

Nodding her head slowly, Elena took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Should you two be having sex yet?" Elena queried, one eyebrow arched as the girl's stared out the window and into the backyard where the brothers seemed to be immersed in a little chat of their own.

"Don't worry," Bonnie sighed. "No bun in the oven yet. I've got killer cramps right now, which tells me that Mother Nature's little curse is on its way."

"But how? You two are supposed to bear this unimaginably amazing super kid."

"Unimaginably amazing super kid?" Bonnie eyed her friend teasingly.

"Yeah, I know. Descriptive overkill," Elena giggled. "Seriously though, what gives? You still had sex with him anyway? Do you _want_ to be a teen mom?"

"I don't really have much of a say when it comes to the timing of it all," the petite butterscotch-skinned woman began to explain. "Fiona-"

"Stefan told me all about her," Elena interrupted. "Sounds like she was an incredible woman. Just wish I had been able to meet her. She meant a lot to Stefan."

"She was, in a word_, 'extraordinary_.' She became like a real mom to Stefan and even to Damon – _to some extent_. She was my mentor and she told me all about the prophesied birth."

"What did she say?"

"_A nochtadh_," Bonnie replied. "That's what she called the sacred night of procreation. It means _'The Revelation._'"

"Why _'The Revelation'_?" Elena questioned.

"Because the child I'm going to have with Damon will be just that – a revelation to both the Supernatural and Mortal worlds. He or she will be the only one of their kind – born into a vampire-witch hybrid existence."

"But when? When does it happen?"

"When the fates decide our love is..._just right_," Bonnie revealed.

"_Just right?_" Elena asked, eying the loathsome vampire.

"Fiona mentioned that there would be certain tests along the way," she began. "Tests for me and for Damon. When the requirements have been fulfilled, the timing will be _just right_."

"So really, you could choose _not_ to have this kid," the leggy brunette inserted. "You could...flunk the requirements?"

"Sure. I guess. If I want us to relive another cleanse, be burned at the stake while Stefan and Damon are punished beside me. Yeah, I guess I could fail the tests on purpose and see the Supernatural World fall to its knees. Warfare – what's not to love about that?"

"Point taken," Elena replied, slouching further into her seat. "So what do I call your kid anyway? A vampwitch? Witchvamp?"

"_Witchvamp?_ I don't think so," Bonnie laughed uncontrollably. "Damon already gave me his blessing for the term _'vitch,'_ though. He told me and Stefan that if it's a girl, she'll sound like a real badass that way."

"Why am I not surprised?" the human teen responded with a grin. Sighing regretfully, she unlaced her fingers from Bonnie's and took a quick swig of java. "Okay. Time for school."

"What? Why?"

"Because if you and I show up together for our first day back everyone will think we've been playing hooky," Elena smirked. "Stefan's coming with me. Says he doesn't want me to be alone right now. He's insisted on escorting me everywhere. Maybe even the ladies' room," she threw in playfully.

"Not a bad idea, Stef," a distinctly self-assured male voice chucked in. "Go on. Live a little. _Boldly go where no teenage boy has gone before._"

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass," the younger Salvatore returned. "See, I believe in this thing called _'respecting a woman's modesty.'_"

"And I believe that you've gone and lost your cajones," Damon replied, shaking his head.

"And _I believe_ that if Damon doesn't _shut up_, we're going to be late for first period," Elena threw in, grabbing her black leather jacket and lacing her fingers through Stefan's.

With that, the leather-clad duo made their way for the door. Turning to offer Bonnie a warm glance, Elena mouthed sweetly: _I love you, B._

By the time the door slammed shut, Damon was waiting full of witty repartee. "She _loves you_," he mimicked. "Hmmm, do I have some competition for your affections?" the vampire teased with a wiggle of his brows.

Balancing herself on her toes, Bonnie wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in close. "Maybe you do," she teased, offering him a wicked wink.

Smirking against her lips, he gave her derriere a playful squeeze.

"Saucy," he remarked, giving her a light peck. "Seductive." His mouth brushed over hers more languidly this time. "And best of all," he offered, stroking her cheek with his fingertip. "So..._sexually attracted to me_."

"Didn't we have a chat this morning about certain things _going to your head_?" she queried, beaming up at him.

"Certain things going to _my head_," he remarked in a reflective tone. "I like those types of conversations best."

Deciphering his naughty meaning, Bonnie shook her head and tried to unwind herself from his embrace. She needed to gather her thoughts and her belongings before heading back to Grams' place.

She made it about half-way there before a pair of sinewy strong arms were encircled around her slender waist. "Damon," she groaned, thoroughly enjoying the way his body was pressed so intimately against hers. "We need to get ready."

"Oh_, I'm ready_," he responded with his trademark Cheshire Cat-like grin stretching from one ivory cheek to the next.

"For _Grams_?" she questioned with a chuckle.

"Oh, that's right. _Why?_" he recalled, whimpering like a child at the realization that he would now have to meet with Ms. Tituba Bennett instead of frolicking around in the land of fluffy pillows, silk sheets and spirited lovemaking for the rest of the day.

"I _need_ to see her," Bonnie insisted, turning to offer him a probing stare. "You know I do. I've missed her so much, Damon...and I'm sure, _on some level_, she'd like to see you too."

"Because she loves me _so much_," he chewed out sarcastically.

"She will," the green-eyed witch replied assuredly. "Someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later." Resting her head against his chest, she felt him weave his fingers through her silken midnight locks. "So...you wrote Stefan a sick note?"

"Yup," he smiled somewhat sinisterly. "Big brother Damon wrote a nice long explanation to Principal Rogers about how Saint Stefan came down with _an unfortunate case of mono_ – which _Elena Gilbert_ was responsible for. I tried to pin it to his jacket so he wouldn't lose it, but then he started whining about what it would do to the leather_. Such a baby_," he jested with a roll of his ocean blue eyes.

"_Mono?_' she laughed, smacking him on the forearm. "How _creative_."

"Nah," he began to confess. "Since your Grams has been phoning in every morning pretending to be Jenna, I opted for _her_ excuse. You, Stef and Elena all came down with a bad case of food poisoning...I liked _my _explanation _so much better_."

When they were like this, it became more difficult to recall why they had ever possessed feelings of animosity toward one another. Bonnie couldn't help but be totally astonished by the immense warmth she could feel while being held in the frigid embrace of a vampire.

* * *

"Hi mom," Caroline Forbes spoke into her pink smartphone. "Just calling to see how you're doing. Didn't see you this morning when I came down for breakfast...or last night when I got home. That's not really like you. Anyway, give me a call when you get this message."

She sighed exasperatedly, wondering where on earth her overly protective sheriff of a mom had run off to without bothering to inform her first. It was strange, this feeling inside. It was like a complete role reversal had suddenly taken place and now she was the one left with her hands braced at her hips, pacing back and forth in frenzied contemplation.

Elizabeth Forbes had never done this to her daughter before. The pretty blond raked her pale, slender fingers through her shiny flaxen locks and tucked her phone into the side pocket of her backpack.

_Okay. Just breathe. She'll call you. Everything is going to be just fine._

As she turned to face the crowded quad, her gaze was immediately drawn to a familiar twosome sitting side by side at a picnic table nestled beneath a vibrantly hued elm tree. _How sweet. No phone call or email or text and you two just waltz back in here like you never left me high and dry for the history assignment? No 'Hey Caroline, we're really sorry for ditching you so unexpectedly.' And where the heck is Bonnie? Best friends, my ass._

Taking a moment to straighten out her powder blue summer dress and white shrug, she took a deep breath and sashayed toward the pair with equal amounts of confidence and 'Bitch please!' ferocity.

Elena was about to take a bite out of her tuna on rye when a distinctly perky voice tinged with condescension filled her ears. "Hey there, strangers_._"

Tilting her head, she met Caroline's cool gaze and defensive demeanor. It wasn't as though she didn't understand where she was coming from; she had no idea what had happened in Ireland and trying to explain that to her would do far more harm than good.

Caroline wasn't aware of the Supernaturals currently prowling in the woods or meandering along city streets. It would be way too much for her to digest.

So Elena did the only other thing that came to mind. She rose from her seat and hugged her friend as tightly as she could. "Caroline," she breathed into her hair.

Taken aback by the warm gesture, the petite blond slowly wrapped her arms around the lithe brunette. "It's not my birthday," she chuckled awkwardly.

"Does it have to be for me to bear hug you until you turn blue?" Elena beamed, releasing the girl from her grasp.

"What happened to you guys?" Caroline asked, her gaze darting back and forth from her friend to Stefan.

All of a sudden Elena felt her mind swept up in a trance. It was almost as if she was still down there – in that place with no sunlight or even a grain of positive energy.

She could still remember being hoisted up against the wall by a Supernatural force she had never encountered before – perhaps the same force the warlock had used to toss Stefan across the green the night of the dance like a rag doll.

She had memorized their cover story to a tee and yet somehow, her lips were frozen. Stefan could hear her thoughts and immediately spoke up. "One really bad case of food poisoning," he answered. "We were okay enough to come back today. Bonnie's staying at her Grams' place 'til she feels better."

Words could not explain just how odd it was calling Tituba Bennett _'Grams'_ – especially when you had over a hundred years of life experience on her. Truth be told, Stefan had missed his old friend while they were off in Ireland.

"Oh yeah," Caroline recalled, taking a seat on the bench while Elena returned to Stefan's side. "She told me her dad would be out of town visiting relatives in Salem or something. We were planning a girls' night at her place – manis, pedis and _True Blood, seasons one and two_," she smirked mischievously.

_True Blood_, Stefan thought amusedly. It was amazing how much love the vampire lore was receiving again. If only the mortals knew it was actually real – not the whole sparkling in the sunlight bit, though. That was just too ridiculous for words.

Not to mention, it was highly doubtful that unknowing mortals would take too kindly to the revelation that vampires actually existed. Not everyone could react unrealistically calm a la Bella Swan.

Hysteria and absolute pandemonium. Yup, that was more along the lines of what he had been envisioning. Now with The Prophecy at hand, the idea of a second Cleanse didn't seem so far-fetched.

"Hey, maybe I should pay her a visit tonight," the sweetly smiling blond continued.

"No," Elena replied a little more adamantly than she should have.

"And why not?" Caroline regarded her quizzically, a certain glint evident in her blue eyes.

"Because she needs all the rest she can get," Stefan quickly inserted, snaking an arm around his girlfriend's tiny waist. "We had planned on seeing her tonight-"

"But Grams said it might be best if we waited a day or two," Elena finished, grateful for Stefan's verbal heroism moments before. "So...did Mr. DeWitt give you a lot of trouble over the assignment?"

"Actually no," Caroline stated somewhat begrudgingly. "Because no one knows where he is."

Their ears immediately perked up. "What do you mean?" Stefan queried, lines of concern etched into his forehead.

"He disappeared," she continued to explain. "A lot of people have lately. Other teachers, students...I mean, just a few days ago, that junior Meredith Richards and her friends were out in the woods near Old Fell's Church and two of them were abducted. And _totally on the DL_," she exclaimed, nudging them forward with her index finger and lowering her voice. "I overheard my mom and Officer Rodriguez talking about how Meredith said a man with wings attacked them. Can you believe that? _A man with wings._ Impossible, I know."

Stefan and Elena exchanged awkward glances. If only she knew.

Still, the vampire couldn't shake the thought that another one of Mystic Falls' oldest secrets had somehow managed to resurface in their absence. Had the fairies really returned? Or were they here all along simply hiding beneath the cloak of relative "normalcy," whatever that was.

He had known only a handful of fairies, some incomparably good and others ready to slit throats and commit acts designed to torture and enslave. Fairies were powerful and certainly nothing Disney ever portrayed.

They could brew potions, perform a limited amount of spells compared to witches and they could indeed fly – nearly as high as he and Damon could as the mysterious brotherly bat and crow duo. He remembered how Katherine had coveted their gifts, purchasing a vast array of brews meant to bewitch.

There were no other Supernaturals the little temptress prized more than The Witches. They possessed such a profound sense of inner strength – a great driving force when it came to performing complicated incantations...and tomb sealing spells.

Stefan could still remember the day he and Damon were shot by the townspeople. They tried so desperately to free Katherine Pierce from the burning church, but to no avail.

It was not truly love that coerced the younger Salvatore into pummelling the wooden door with enraged fists or taking an axe to it in order to rescue the seductress of a vampire who had used him and his brother. No. It was Damon.

The heartbreak was evident on his brother's boyish face. He _needed_ Katherine. He couldn't handle another loss – not after their mother. No woman of consequence had managed to stay in their lives long enough to bond with them – until the little narcissistic fanged one entered the seemingly idyllic picture.

As they battered the door, two gunshots were fired into the blackened sky. By the time they turned their bodies toward the hoards of irate townspeople, it was too late.

The bullets had pierced through their chests, wounding them fatally.

Preoccupied townspeople that they were, the rioting masses continued to hunt every Supernatural they could find. Even those simply suspected of dabbling in the mystical arts were arrested and eventually killed before a sickeningly enthusiastic crowd of onlookers.

This provided Emily Bennett with the perfect opportunity to scoop up their lifeless bodies and carry them to safety. She and her cousin lay them down beneath the shelter of an abandoned home nestled within the eerie quiet of the woods nearby.

Stefan had no idea about the deal Damon had already struck with Emily. All he knew was they had somehow managed to miraculously cheat death – until the witch explained it to them.

Katherine had been compelling Stefan to feed from her. Damon, on the other hand, required no such compulsion; he acted most obligingly toward the undead vixen.

Now they had a choice. Feed or die.

Neither of them wanted to at first, but the hunger pangs were far more intense than anything a mere mortal could understand. It felt like someone was tugging on your intestines with deliberate slowness or gnawing away at your arteries until you gave in.

The bloodlust was raging. One thought would creep into their minds, only to be swiftly replaced by another more sinister one.

Crimson viscous syrup with the tartness of cherries and at times, the exquisite finish of a finely aged port wine – it was all they craved that day.

Emily knew very well their situation was dire. She also knew that if she and her cousin stuck around for much longer, they could end up on the menu. After all, Stefan and Damon could buckle under the immense pressure at any moment now.

So she left with parting words for each brother. Stefan remembered the way she lightly stroked his cheek. "There's such goodness in your heart. I knew it was wrong, what she was doing to you both. I just didn't have the strength to stop her. Forgive me, Stefan."

He stood before her, his white shirt drenched in blood. "Will I be as monstrous as the others?"

"No," she answered simply, brushing aside a strand of unkempt chestnut hair.

"How can you be so certain?"

They remained shrouded in darkness, only the softest candlelight flickering in the background of the old house. The wallpaper had begun to peel away, revealing years of wear and tear on the abandoned abode.

Gazing pensively into his eyes, Emily leaned in close. "Do you know what captivated Katherine most about you?" He simply shook his head from side to side. "Your heart."

"My heart?"

"Do not take that lightly, Stefan. Though she may look no more than 17, Katherine Pierce has been around for 500 years. Her taste in suitors is highly discriminating and though she enjoyed Damon's enthusiasm, her greatest prize was you. She coveted your innocence, for she had long since abandoned hers. You represented everything she could not be – the ultimate form of intrigue for a creature such as herself. If you decide to turn, you will not be a monster in the truest sense. You will not murder without remorse because your heart refuses to turn black."

"And what of Damon?" he softly questioned, staring down at the petite witch. The large petticoat she wore seemed to overwhelm her diminutive figure.

"Damon will follow his own path."

"Is that all you can tell me about my brother?" he asked seriously.

"Just know this, Stefan. _Everything happens for a reason_."

She spoke to Damon next, leading him into another room so they could be alone. Stefan had never been privy to the details of their conversation.

After that, Emily and her cousin mounted the horses they had travelled on and returned to Mystic Falls. When Stefan tried to talk her out of that decision, she said only this: "A _greater purpose_ awaits me back home."

Now it all made sense. She had to go back – to set The Prophecy into motion.

That night Emily was burned at the stake beside Tabitha Moira Bellwain.

"Stefan?" Elena waved her hands playfully in front of him. "You okay?"

Blinking his eyes repeatedly, he tucked the memory of that night away and focused his attention on the two girls staring intently at him. "I'm sorry. What were you two saying?"

"I was just telling Elena that my mom's gone completely MIA on me," Caroline explained, her shoulders slumping instantly.

"For how long?" the handsome vampire inquired.

"It hasn't been 24 hours yet, but still...it's not like her. She didn't come home last night, wasn't around for breakfast this morning and she didn't even bother to leave a message."

Elena grasped her hand supportively. "Maybe she just got really tied down with an important case. I mean, like you said, she's a busy lady. She practically runs the town for Mayor Lockwood. Don't tell Tyler I said that," she laughed. "Look, I'm sure she's fine. She'll call and then you can yell at her for nearly giving you a heart attack and anything else parents like to do to us when we've missed a curfew."

"I hope you're right," Caroline breathed. "Guess I'll just have to stop by the station after practice today."

"Wanna hang for a bit after that?" Elena offered.

"Sorry. Wish I could, but I've already got plans," the pretty blond replied.

"Oooooh, do I know his name?" the leggy brunette chuckled.

"Actually, you know them both," she answered.

"Ooooh la la!" Elena yelped as her boyfriend chuckled beside her.

"I'm meeting up with Matt and Tyler at The Grill."

"You're hanging with Matt and Tye?" Elena repeated.

"Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I'm not," she lied. "It's just that we haven't hung with them since elementary school when you went through that awkward paste-eating phase."

"Geez Gilbert, why don't you just Tweet about it?" Caroline sneered; feeling embarrassed by that little revelation being made in front of Stefan Salvatore.

"Shit. Sorry Caroline," Elena replied.

"Anyway technically that's not true," she pointed out. "We hung out all the time – when you and Matt were an item."

Silence lingered in the air for a moment as both girls eyed one another. "My bad," Elena remarked. "Anyway, maybe we can hang next time. You, me, Bonnie...Ben & Jerry?"

"I'd like that," the blue-eyed mortal replied, reaching out to embrace her friend. "Alright lovebirds, Algebra calls...sadly."

* * *

Bonnie took a deep breath and squeezed Damon's hand tighter as they stood before her grandmother's royal blue front door. Turning to face him, she smiled sweetly. "Be good."

"Always am," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. "You know, we could just head back to the Boarding House."

"Damon," the petite witch groaned, smacking him in the ribs. "We already went through this in the car. I need to see my Grams. She's probably been worried sick since we left for Ireland."

"Just consider the options,' he began, quirking an eyebrow suggestively at her. "We can either sit around drinking_ tea with Tituba_ – which I think deserves a resounding _'Booooo!'_ from the peanut gallery – _**or **_we could head back to my place and do the _horizontal mambo_ 'til the springs in my mattress buckle and break."

"Hmmm," Bonnie sighed, grinning from ear to ear at the sinful thought. "Sounds incredibly tempting," she continued, balancing herself on her toes and wrapping her arms around the vampire's neck. "Today though, I think I'll pass."

Leaning in for a quick peck, she felt him give her body a gentle squeeze. "My little vixen," he whispered into her ear.

"I attribute _all _of my recent bad behavior to a certain _shady vampire_," she winked.

"_Shady?"_ he scoffed, tilting his head to the side. "Did I rob the Quickie Mart or something? I'm deeply offended, _Ms. Bennett_. You'd think that after a century and a half of terrorizing mortals and behaving _most maniacally_, I'd be worthy of a more..._sinister_ title."

"Alright," Bonnie smiled with childlike mischief. "But first," she whispered, leaning her warm cheek against his glacial one. "I need to see them."

To anyone else, this sudden request would have seemed like a strange twist in the flow of their already scandalous conversation. Damon, on the other hand, knew precisely what she meant.

It just drove him mad..._with unadulterated want_.

He felt the thin yellow veins descend like miniature bolts of lightning beneath his shadowy gaze. Two lumps of coal replaced the sapphire irises Bonnie loved so much. They bore into her hungrily as she watched, completely enthralled as his fangs broke through the surface of his gums.

He pressed her up against the door and kept his back turned to the rest of the world. "Enticing enough for you?" he smirked against the feverishly warm skin of her throat.

"_Always_," she breathed raggedly. Her body quivered as he gently raked his fangs across her shoulder and within a few more seconds, Bonnie found her fingers tangled in his unkempt mass of midnight locks.

"Not here," she whispered quite adamantly. "Later. I promise."

Damon gathered every ounce of restraint he could muster and released her from his grasp. As he turned his head, he noticed two young boys staring curiously up at them, as though they had just committed an act of public indecency.

"Get a girlfriend. You'll understand," he hollered at them from across the street. Their mouths remained agape in pure shock at such an intimate sight taking place in public.

They appeared to be around 13 years of age. One had the shaggiest dark hair – irritatingly similar to Justin Bieber's eyebrow concealing, famed super coif.

_Kids these days_, Damon sighed inwardly. He glanced down at Bonnie and found her blushing profusely with a wide toothy grin spread across her enchanting face.

She peered up at him beneath a dark fan of feathery lashes. "You just said 'Get a _girlfriend_.' Is that your way of saying..._I'm_ your _girlfriend?_"

He licked his lips involuntarily and stared thoughtfully at the diminutive witch by his side. How could he answer that question without bearing...his soul? That would mean compromising the "edge" he had worked so tirelessly to achieve for nearly 170 years.

He didn't do overly romantic drivel; that was Stefan's bag. He didn't write in a journal, make poetic declarations or admit to romantic feelings.

Love sucks. Love drains and abandons. Love erodes the soul and clouds judgment.

It also made him wildly protective over Bonnie Bennett; more so than he had ever been with any other woman in his existence. It all boiled down to this: _Damon Salvatore wanted to give her everything so she would never want for anything. _

As he nervously contemplated the next few words to say, the blue door swung wide open. Tituba Bennett leaped forward, wrapping her lithe arms around her granddaughter.

"Oh Bonnie," she breathed, relishing the signature lavender fragrance of the teen's raven locks. "I've missed you so much, baby girl."

"Grams," Bonnie sighed contentedly against the older witch's cheek. "I've missed you too. It's so good to be home again."

Reluctantly unlocking themselves from their warm embrace, the two women stood in silence for a moment, observing the leather-clad vampire in their presence. "Damon," Tituba acknowledged him dryly.

"Tituba," he returned in a similar fashion. His lips curved into a frolicsome smile. "Miss me?"

"_Terribly_," she sarcastically replied. "I _almost _didn't know what to do with myself."

"See, _Pooh Bear_," Damon chuckled, giving Bonnie a playful pinch on the shoulder. "And you thought _I_ needed a pulse to get her approval. Your Grams _adores_ me. Isn't that right, Tituba?"

Pooh Bear? She must've misheard. Then again, he did call her 'Pookie' in Ireland. Bonnie silently supposed there were no boundaries Damon would not cross to get a rise out of her grandmother. That sentiment seemed to go both ways.

There seemed to be an intriguing tension between them. It was like watching a stern school teacher trying to discipline the student who craftily covered the chalkboard with ravings of "School sucks!"

The ivory complexioned vampire prepared himself for some witty scathing retort, but when none came, he found himself at a complete loss for words. Extending her hand to him and peering intently into his cornflower blue eyes, she simply said "Thank you."

Was this a joke? Damon gulped aloud. _For what? Is this one of those things where if I shake your hand, I'll die?_

_Sadly no. _Tituba raised her eyebrow at him. "You kept your promise and brought Bonnie back home safe and sound. I am truly grateful."

_So you're serious?_ He questioned her mentally, still wondering what on earth she was playing at.

_As a heart attack._ She couldn't contain the amused smirk that spread across her face at the sight of him so awkward and unable to accept public displays of gratitude.

Stefan won the acclaim; he garnered abhorrence. At least that was how their father viewed them.

"You're welcome," he replied, gripping her hand uneasily. Shifting his gaze toward Bonnie, he stared into her emerald orbs. "I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I was raised during a time when a man's word was as good as gold. That hasn't changed for me."

He didn't know why he felt the overwhelming need to make an utterance like that, but in her presence he found himself doing a lot of things he couldn't rationalize the old Damon doing.

Tituba studied the expression on his face as he spoke so passionately to her granddaughter. There was not an ounce of dishonesty in his tone – that much was evident.

Within his eyes she glimpsed a flicker of something so astoundingly beautiful. Something incredibly transformative had happened to Damon Salvatore in Ireland.

The witch smiled knowingly to herself. "Come inside, you two. We've got a lot to talk about."

Bonnie and Damon sat on the beige sofa, while Tituba slunk into the comfort and softness of a newly reupholstered accent chair. Maya had it restored for her birthday and the Greek God of a deliveryman had brought it to her humble abode this morning.

It was the color of reddish-brown leaves – the kind you'd find scattered on the sidewalks during autumn. The elder witch relaxed against the butterscotch pillow and cast a sideways glance at the sunlit neighborhood she had lived in her whole life.

Things were going to change. It was as simple as that. For better or for worse.

"You found Elena," she exclaimed with such regal poise.

"Yes," Bonnie beamed with childlike bliss. "But how did you know?"

"Stefan called me this morning," the petite brown-eyed witch told them. "Sounded like a little boy unwrapping presents on Christmas Day."

"And Elena's his little _angel on top_," Damon remarked in jest.

"For lack of a better expression – yes," Tituba replied, rolling her eyes at him. "He told me about Fiona."

Bonnie felt her heart sink at the mere mention of the Irish witch. Memories of her distinct lilt, infectious laughter and warm chestnut eyes flooded her mind.

"She taught you a great deal," the elder witch continued. "I can feel the power radiating from you."

"She...sacrificed herself," Bonnie sniffled, trying desperately to quell the flow of tears that threatened to cascade down her rosy cheeks.

"So that you may live," Tituba offered. "She knew just as well as I do that your child will be the bringer of peace. You will bestow upon the world the most monumental gift it has ever received."

"Don't you mean _you two_?" Damon threw in, arching his brow. "It takes _two_ to tango."

"And _one vampire_ to annoy me," retorted.

"I won't let you talk about _Stefan_ that way," he responded, balling up his fists in pretend fury.

Stifling the mildly uncomfortable urge to laugh at his joke, Tituba rose from her seat and left the room. "That was rude," Damon pointed out, twirling a lock of Bonnie's hair around his index finger.

"If it's not you and Elena, it's you and Grams," she groaned in frustration.

"What did_ I_ do?" he questioned, staring innocently into her emerald eyes.

"You talk too much," Tituba flatly replied, walking into the room with a maroon hardcover book held close to her chest.

Damon sneered at her from across the room. She sat before them again and busily flipped through the encyclopaedic length piece of literature. "Here it is," she announced.

Bonnie and Damon leaned forward, trying to decipher the meaning behind such a complex illustration. The edges of the book were black, almost as though they had been singed by fire.

The little witch allowed her fingers to graze the rough ends and observed at great length the black and white drawing before her. Five symbols were placed in a circular formation.

The first image was of a child. A baby wrapped in layers of sheets, peering up at the night sky beautifully illuminated by a generous smattering of starlight.

Second came the effeminate looking figure sitting beneath a tree. Her hands were clasped as if to pray and a halo floated atop her wavy mass of hair.

Image number three was a jewel shaped similarly to the one that dangled from Bonnie's bronze chain. Sparks flew in all directions around it.

Fourth in the circle was a fist-sized organ. A heart with a blade plunged into the center, causing its crimson contents to escape in the form of sizable droplets.

Finally they reached the fifth drawing. A woman sat beneath the light of a full moon, her curly voluminous hair blowing in the wind. He eyes were shut, hands raised into the air, her arms and legs encrusted with jewels.

"An Turas Prophetic," Tituba announced. "It means 'The Prophetic Journey.'"

"Whose book is this?" Bonnie inquired, feeling Damon's hand splayed comfortingly at the small of her back.

"It belonged to a woman called Annabelle Purefoy," the brown-eyed witch exclaimed. "She lived in Salem many years ago – when your ancestor Nyah was alive."

"Nyah?" The Supernatural teen eyed her grandmother quizzically. "The woman my dad refuses to talk about?"

"Your father was just being a stick in the mud," she replied. "He got that from _your grandfather's_ side of the family. You haven't met _in-laws from Hell_ until you've met mine."

Bonnie chuckled at the mention of Grandpa Joe and Granny Rutina. "Were Annabelle and Nyah friends?"

"Lord no," Tituba balked. "Annabelle Purefoy was an _ignorant, spiteful_ old bitty who gave every non-white person in Salem hell just for breathing."

"So she was a bigot?" the little witch surmised. "We've been running into a lot of those recently."

"Baby girl, Annabelle may have been a bigot," Tituba exclaimed. "And if I had been alive in 1692, I probably would've decked the bitch. But she was also one of us."

_Language_, Bonnie thought. Profanity amongst teenagers was an everyday occurrence. Hearing your grandmother threaten to go "Foxy Cleopatra" on some old slave owner was priceless.

"What do you mean she was _'one of us?'_" the petite caramel-complexioned witch inquired.

"She was a witch," Tituba confirmed. "A skilled practitioner of The Craft. She used to have...visions. Sometimes when they were truly intense, she would document them."

"Was _this_ from a dream?" Damon asked, gesturing toward the book.

"A series of them," she stated.

"Well if _she_ was a bigot and treated Nyah like crap, how did _you_ get the book?" he queried.

"Nyah stole it."

Bonnie flinched in response. "She stole it? How?"

"Little old Annie was accused of witchcraft by the townspeople," Tituba offered. "They seized her most prized possessions – including this book. Nyah knew there were a few entries about her in it. If anyone caught sight of 'em, it would only be a matter of time before they came knockin' at her door. So she snuck into the sheriff's office one night and took it. It's been in the family ever since."

"And then she came to Mystic Falls," Bonnie surmised. "She came here to flee hate and intolerance...and now I'm swimmin' at the epicenter of it," she sighed.

"Do you recognize any of the illustrations?" her grandmother asked gently.

"Baby's a no brainer," Damon replied, smiling at Bonnie.

"The jewel seems pretty obvious too," the petite witch added. "I'm wearing it right now."

"What about the woman sitting beneath the tree?" Tituba prodded her further.

Bonnie studied her peaceful stance, palms glued together as if to pray, eyes shut tightly. It reminded her of a pivotal moment that had taken place one night in Ireland.

She could see it now. Fiona stood at the center of a circular formation of trees with her palms pressed against one another. She was preparing Bonnie to "bring the rain."

"It's Fiona," the green-eyed young woman blurted out. "I know that pose...those trees. She was our savior."

"Which explains the halo," Tituba chucked in. "Now what about the others?"

Bonnie's eyebrows became furrowed. Damon chuckled inwardly at her Stefan-esque pose. "Not a clue," she finally concluded.

"There's something else you should both know," the elder witch began to explain.

"What? There's no such thing as Santa Claus?" Damon threw in jokingly. "Say it ain't so. Stefan's gonna be pissed."

"Smartass," Tituba muttered under her breath. "As traumatic as I'm sure that revelation would be – _for a 6-year-old _– what I have to say is _a little more important_. "

What she wouldn't give to wipe that smug smirk off of Damon Salvatore's ridiculously handsome face. "The police have been up to their ears lately – _in dead bodies_."

She watched as Bonnie's amused grin transformed into wide-eyed shock and fear. "And judging by the injuries, I'd say we've got ourselves one Supernatural smorgasbord."

"Excellent," Damon sarcastically remarked. "So what have we got?"

"A dazzling array of Nazi fairies, witches and weres," she answered. "And it's only a matter of time before even more extremist witches make their way here."

"So let's kill 'em," the vampire exclaimed determinably.

"It's not gonna be as easy as 1,2,3," Tituba emphasized. "This is _more than just a few _enemies making their presence felt. They'll be arriving – _in masses soon enough_. This is all-out warfare. We'll need to call in for reinforcements."

"From the likes of whom?" the vampire questioned.

"For starters," the witch exclaimed. "Gabriel Purefoy."

"Annabelle's descendent?" Bonnie threw in.

Tituba nodded. "Believe it or not, her family holds great sway in a considerable number of Witching Circles the world over. Gabriel has not been involved in The Craft for a number of years, but he is very much like Bonnie in some respects. There is enviable power surging through those veins – untapped power. To defeat our enemies, we will need all the help we can get – starting with _him_."

Persistent knocks sounded at the front door, causing their heads to turn simultaneously. Tituba excused herself for a moment and re-entered the room seconds later with a surprise visitor.

"Stefan," Bonnie beamed, wrapping her arms around him graciously.

He offered her his most endearing smile, but narrowed his gaze angrily at Damon. "Your window was open, Tituba. I heard everything. You can't send Damon to find Gabriel."

"Why not?" Bonnie inquired.

"Because Gabriel's greatest love in the world was Alexandra Jamieson." Stefan's voice quivered at the mention of her name.

"Who is she?" the green-eyed witch queried, flashing a curious expression in Damon's direction.

Stefan's chestnut eyes began to water. "You and Elena knew her by another name. "

Damon's eyes widened at the realization that his past indiscretions may have just screwed him monumentally. He turned away from Stefan's strained, accusatory glance and spoke.

"Lexi."


End file.
